Chemistry
by Swampert653
Summary: She meant the world to you, and when she was gone, the world meant nothing to
1. Gamble, Occupied, One Sided

**Very Important:** as most of these chapters were written two years ago, the beginning ones are very, _very_ bad. I urge, if this is your first time looking at this story, to skip, at least, the first two chapters. My more recent stuff, however, begins at chapter five. That is all.

* * *

**.X. Gamble**

Emerald eyes darted around the darkness of the Mah'habara caverns as quick, hurried footsteps echoed off stone walls. Somewhere behind the light footsteps, a heavy, metallic sounded crash bounced off the walls. Whatever was making said sound was big, and was likely the cause of the desperate sounding breaths of air escaping from a certain Oerban's lips.

Fang darted through the unfamiliar pathways of the mechanical haven. Her chestnut locks fluttered about from the sheer speed she was going at. One might even think she'd taken a lesson or two from Lightning if they saw her at that exact moment.

Unfortunately, however, that was not the reason why she was running as though her life depended on it. The unconscious soldier on her back and the Juggarnaut decimating anything in its path some thirty feet behind her were.

"Ya bloody twit!" she hissed under her breath, thanking Etro for the confined space of the tunnels that was significantly slowing down the Juggarnaut behind her. All she needed to do was to slip around a corner somewhere and hope that the Pulse machinery gave up the chase.

Oh, if only she'd taken the time to work on her Medic role! A simple Raise spell and this whole situation would be reversed. She and Lightning would be tearing after the Juggarnaut as _it_ tried in vain to extend its life. But it was hard to fight such a formidable opponent by oneself, even more so when you had to protect a downed comrade.

"Had ta go an' act like a moron!" the brunette continued, tugging on the two delicate hands that she held within her right hand so as to not allow Light's limp form to slide down her back.

It had been a regular scouting mission. Lightning and Snow had decided to go on a scouting mission to plot out a course for them to take to get through Mah'habara - it was more like Light had decided she'd be going and Snow wanted to tag along - but the two hadn't even left before the soldier had been ready to tear Snow's head off. Fang had told Snow that it might be better that he sit this one out, but he'd been concerned about Lightning's safety. He should have been more worried about his own safety, she told him, but also said she'd go along just to make sure the sergeant didn't get maimed by a robot - like that would ever happen.

They'd made some good progress through the caverns, destroying anything they came across so as to clear a path, until the two had walked out onto a platform and come face to face with a Juggarnaut.

It hadn't seen them, and Light had suggested simply going around it. Fang, on the other hand, had said it would be better to just get killing the thing out of the way. Both hadn't wanted to do it the other's way, and so finally Fang, reckless as she was, had taken off towards the thing, intending to catch it off guard and stagger it quickly. Lightning had been forced to follow, although she did so with a livid look to her eyes that had nothing to do with the thing they were fighting.

The battle had been going well. Fang had succeeded in getting a preemptive strike, and the Juggarnaut had been staggered and launched almost instantly. Perhaps that was why the brunette had gotten so cocky.

The moment the thing was back on the ground and had regained its senses, it went about spewing flames and swinging its large arms. That hadn't been too much for them to handle. No, the problem had occurred when Fang went in close for the kill.

She'd just speared the thing, slashing through mechanical plating and wires, with a triumphant look in her eyes. She had been sure it was over. They had, after all, laid waste to it when it had been staggered and continued chipping away at its health afterward.

Fang had turned to look at Lightning, a rather feral grin playing at her lips, but had been surprised to find the soldier yelling at her to get out of the way.

She had turned back around, seen the Juggarnaut rearing up ever so slightly, cannonball in its middle getting ready to be shot right at her. She was too close. No way she'd have ever gotten out of the way.

But that had been when three scorching hot balls of fire had blind sided the Juggarnaut, turning its attention on their caster and prompting it to shoot the steel ball at the sergeant instead.

Lightning had tried to get out of the way, but the shot was simply too quick. She'd been blown straight across the platform and been knocked out cold.

"Yer not made fer takin' hits like that!" Fang growled to the unconscious woman on her back, turning a sharp corner and immediately ducking behind the nearest thing that looked as though it could withstand a beating if the Juggarnaut happened to slam into it.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the Oerban made herself and the woman she was carrying as small as possible by ducking down. She tried to conceal her sharp intakes of air, but found it utterly impossible to completely silence herself. Hopefully the Juggarnaut wouldn't hear her…

The warrior waited, side pressed against the rock column she was hiding behind, as the daunting footsteps of the Juggarnaut drew closer. Anticipation flooded her veins, and she was second guessing her decision to hide. She should have continued running. But it was too late now. It'd be right upon her if she tried anything now.

The Juggarnaut had turned the corner now, and was only a few feet away from the two l'cie. Eyelids slammed shut over emerald orbs as Fang sent silent prayers to the Fal'cie that the mechanical beast would just pass right by her.

Some job she'd done keeping Lightning safe; having to resort to _praying_ to the very things they were out to destroy. She'd taken a gamble by attacking the Juggarnaut - the very thing Light had wanted to avoid - and the soldier was the one paying for it.

The Juggarnaut paused, no doubt searching for the form of the escaping l'cie, and Fang held her breath. Of course it would notice they were not running ahead of it! How had she been so stupid?

The Pulsian could already see it. In a fit of frustration, the Juggarnaut would begin to decimate the area around it, flailing its arms around and spewing red hot flames. One of its arms would slam into the column keeping the two l'cie hidden, and then it would collapse onto the two women.

And that would be it for them.

But that wasn't what happened at all. The Juggarnaut, after only a few seconds of stillness, seemed to suddenly jump to life once more. Its heavy, clunking footsteps started down the pathway, past the spot where Fang and an unconscious Lightning were positioned.

It was only after the footsteps had become distant that the bronze warrior let out a heavy sigh of relief. She stood up, her legs feeling a little wobbly, and once again tugged on Lightning's arms.

"Lightnin'." The Puslian started in a rather breathless voice. "Remind me ta get ya ta beat tha hell outta me after we get ya ta Vanille."

* * *

**.X.X. Occupied**

Lightning was as quiet as she slid open the window of the upstairs bathroom in the house that she and three other people shared. She slipped out onto the sill, being careful not to lose her balance and fall two stories to the ground below.

She was lithe and agile, but even she had trouble reaching up and pulling herself onto the roof without making a sound.

Why was the sergeant of the Guardian Corps sneaking out of a bathroom window and onto the roof? Simple. Vanille and Serah were waiting just outside the bathroom door, armed with brushes, a curling iron, and hair ties, and saying they wanted to try something.

They had already succeeded in tying a few locks of her long pink hair into a braid, which they positioned just behind her left ear - proof that she hadn't escaped untouched. She silently wondered why it had taken so much convincing to get them to let her go to the restroom where she would make her escape.

Grunting silently, the soldier hoisted herself onto the rough surface of the roof and paused. Her eyes had yet to adjust to suit the darkness of a Gran Pulse night.

It wasn't as dark as one of Cocoon's nights, she noted, because of the many stars that adorned the sky. So many stars… She'd never even seen a real star before coming here. Catching herself staring, the soldier quickly turned her attention to getting out of dodge. If either Vanille or Serah decided to bust into the bathroom and stick their head out the window, they'd see her hovering on the edge of the roof.

The strawberry blond shuffled carefully away from the edge and up the slope of the roof towards the center. She figured she could sit up here for an hour or two and then come back down once the two teens had tired themselves out looking for her and gone to sleep.

Light's heart also jumped from her chest, however, when an accented voice called to her in a low tone from the other side of the roof.

"Ya hidin' too, Sunshine?"

Fang.

Azure eyes scanned the expanse of the roof, at least the side that she was on, but could not locate the Pulsian. Until, that is, she ventured over the top of the roof and onto the other side.

Immediately, even in the dim light, the sergeant noted something incredibly off about the Oerban reclining with her hands under her head, emerald gaze turned skyward.

Was Fang's hair… Was it styled like hers?

Lightning blinked, unsure, but then remembered the small braid behind her left ear that Vanille had managed to put in before she'd made the excuse of needing to go to the bathroom. So they'd been trying to switch the two older women's hair styles? How did Vanille and Serah come up with these things…?

The brunette turned her brilliant emerald eyes onto the soldier and gave a small grin. "Well, this spots occupied, but I s'pose if it's ya, than I kin share." As if to add proof to her claim, the sari clad woman lightly patted the spot next to her, motioning for Lightning to sit down.

The soldier eyed her critically for a moment, but then supposed that there was no harm in it. After all, they were both in the same position.

She sat down next to the Pulsian, and, together, the two stared up at the glimmering stars above them, waiting for their siblings to give up and go to sleep.

* * *

**.X.X.X. One Sided**

Fang wasn't sure when it had started, nor was she sure it even mattered. All she knew was that she was helplessly entranced by the stalwart soldier that their little group of l'cie had started to call their leader.

She wasn't sure what it was about the sergeant that drew her close - perhaps it was the similarities of their situations, the determined glint in her azure sapphire eyes that mirrored the ones in Fang's own emerald ones, that bloody temper that was just so fun to test, or, and one couldn't forget about this, those gorgeous looks that had her heart hammering in her chest the moment she laid eyes on Lightning Farron.

While the warrior was unsure the exact reasons why she was so drawn to the other woman, she was well aware of the effects that had on her. She'd been bending over backwards for Light for Etro knows how long.

It started on the Palamecia, she supposed. Her mind was on Vanille, but she couldn't help but cast a glance or two towards the strawberry blond as she went about fighting with all of her flips and spins, almost as if she'd forgotten they were thousands of feet up. More than that, she'd realized that every time Snow said something idiotic, the soldier didn't even have to move to hit him. Fang was doing it for her.

That was just the beginning, though, and went unchecked because, well, the Pulsian figured that Snow could use a few knocks to the head. It wasn't as though Light had asked her to, after all.

In the Fifth Arc, there were less subtle signs. Anything that got anywhere near Lightning was instantly ripped to shreds by an angry member of the Yun clan. She endured the constant chiding of Vanille about her recklessness and none too many 'thank you's from the soldier.

Again. That went unchecked because Fang hadn't really even noticed herself doing it. It seemed almost natural to spring to Lighting's aid even if she didn't exactly need any help.

And then there was Bahamut. She'd been ready to turn on her friends, her _family_, if it meant protecting them. It was only when Lightning asked her to continue to fight with them did she cave.

It was apparent at that point, that she simply couldn't say no to Lightning unless there were some pretty dire circumstances. Like. More dire than a dragoon breathing down her neck and the fate of the world on her shoulders.

Once they'd reached Gran Pulse things had gotten even worse.

Fang had started going out of her way to please the sergeant, but did it as discreetly as possible so her pride remained intact. Nevertheless, she'd settled on the grounds that Lightning picked on their first day there instead of insisting on the location just north of that one. Vanille had been incredibly surprised.

And then she'd started bringing back things that she'd noted the sergeant taking a liking to. Even if that did happen to be Behemoth, a rather tricky beast to slay and not on her list of favorite things to eat. It just wasn't salty enough for her.

She had also been more cooperative than she might have been for someone as commanding as Lightning. The gods knew Fang was, if nothing else, a rebel who enjoyed nothing more than flaunting her disregard for the rules. So even when she didn't particularly _want_ to play the Saboteur role - she would always favor charging right in as a Commando - the brunette would do it, for no other reason than to please Light.

And occasionally she'd be sitting by the fire, thinking about all of this, and Fang would suddenly ask herself why. Why did she go out of her way for this Cocoon soldier?

And then Lightning would look over at her, almost as if sensing a disturbance, and the warrior would catch sight of the thing that made her heart flutter and cleared her mind of all questions. That smile that Light would only do for _her_.


	2. Performance, Nightmares, Mistake

**A/N:** Nightmares is my favorite because it was something I hadn't tried/seen much of before. Mistake is my take on the relationship between Lightning and Hope.

* * *

**.X. Performance**

"Eat this!" Fang's battle cry rang out through the musky air of the Chocobo meadow as she twisted her lance, throwing their most recent mark, the Chocobo terrorizing Sahagin, up into the air. The amphibious looking bird let out a shrill cry, but the huntress paid it no mind. She wouldn't have to be listening to it for much longer.

Without even giving the beastie a chance to fall back to the ground, Fang was leaping after it, twirling her lance through the air with such precision, such power, that there was little it could do to stop it.

"Get ready, Sunshine!" she called as she finished her own round of attacks, and began to feel gravity pull her downwards once more. The brunette thought she heard the faintest of grunts in response to her words, but paid them no mind. Light would have been ready even if the warrior hadn't called to her, and she certainly would have been ready regardless of whether or not she responded.

They were on the same wavelength, it seemed, when it came to things like slaying Gran Pulse wild life. The coordination between them was amazing. Just as one finished their assault, the other would leap in to take over with their own.

Dark raven locks fluttered around Fang's face as Lightning pushed herself up into the air to pick up where the Oerban had left off.

For a split second, as they passed each other in the air, their eyes met. It couldn't have been for longer than a second, but the weightless feeling that attacked her senses lasted much longer.

As soon as well worn sandals hit the ground, emerald eyes were turned skywards. 'Jus' in time.' the Pulsian thought with a smirk as she saw the soldier begin her dance.

As far as fighting went, no one in the group had a more aesthetically pleasing style than Lightning. The way her lithe form seemed to defy gravity, almost as if she never needed those gloves of hers, had amazed Fang from day one.

To anyone else, the sight of Lightning hacking into her enemy might have been nothing more than a blur of red and pink and the blinding glint of her gun-blade in the sun. To the bronze huntress, however, it was so much more.

The subtle rippling of muscles beneath fair skin told of the power behind each strike and grace radiated from the woman in waves. Every movement flowed from one to the other, never allowing her enemy a moment to recover. And by the way that she was so easily able to avoid getting tangled up in her own cloak, one would think she had planned out every single movement. Occasionally, the brunette would even get a glimpse of those sapphire eyes in the heat of battle. She had the eyes of a true Gran Pulse hunter.

"Stay down!" the strawberry blond growled as she unleashed a flurry of electrical slashes on the mark. There wasn't much longer before she'd be forced to return to the ground, but Fang had a feeling she wouldn't be needing to do anything else. Call it a hunch, but she thought Sunshine had this one.

And there it was, the kick that Fang simply knew was coming. One steel toed boot slammed into the launched Sahagin, putting some distance between the monster - Fang almost felt sorry for it at this point; almost - and the soldier. And then one gloved hand rose into the air, calling down a powerful bolt of Thundaga.

There was hardly a sound as the sergeant fell back to the ground; the Sahagin had disintegrated into the black dust that all marks turned into after being felled.

Fang let out a victorious chuckle, her emerald eyes alight with something only a true Gran Pulse hunter would understand, as she twirled her lance in her hands before snapping it into place on her back.

She sauntered, because walking would have been an insult to the woman's movement, towards the strawberry blond, holding her forearm up as she usually did after a particularly satisfying slay. Light was slow to react - she hadn't quite gotten used to the Pulsian doing it with her yet - but also held her forearm up and touched it to Fang's.

Emerald orbs met azure ones, and for a moment, the brunette thought she was weightless once again; as if she'd just gone back in time to the moment when the Sahagin had still been alive.

It was a Gran Pulse thing, something only done between the closest of friends or _even closer_, but Fang had figured that Lightning could be included because she was about as close to Gran Pulse as a viper could get.

"Y-Yeah… Great jobs guys…" The gruffly voice of Sazh broke the sudden stillness of the Chocobo meadow. Lightning pulled back her arm, repositioning it so that her hand now rested on her hip as she cocked her head over her shoulder to glance at the older man. Fang followed suit, although more reluctantly, and then turned her gaze to Sazh as well.

"Ya alright there, old man?" the Oerban asked, chuckling at the gunner bent over catching his breath. He glanced up at her, giving something like a glare and then waving his hand at her as if dismissing her. "Don't know why…" he paused to suck in some grade a Gran Pulse air. "Why you two forced me to come… You've obviously got things under control." he groaned.

Lightning gave a quiet laugh, which only prompted Fang to smirk and reply, "Ain't a show if there's no one ta watch, yeah?"

* * *

**.X.X. Nightmares**

Lightning had always been a light sleeper, even before her entrance into the Guardian Corps. She'd be awake at the drop of a pin back when her parents were still alive.

This particular trait was only enhanced when she began working as a soldier. Not only would she awaken at the slightest of noises, but she'd also be awake enough to actually combat any threats.

And once the whole l'cie thing happened? She was awake, gun-blade in hand, finger on the trigger, and wits about her if Hope, the smallest of the group, so much as shifted in his sleep. It was just something the circumstances called for, and she was forced to adapt.

Which is why, one Tuesday night at roughly four forty-seven a.m., her eyelids suddenly fluttered open. She was aware immediately, the only thing hindering her ability to figure out what had woken her being the fact that her eyes had not adjusted to the darkness.

Still. She could _hear_ it. Hear that irregularity that was so subtle that it might have just been her imagination. But it wasn't. And she knew it wasn't. Because this wasn't the first time it had happened.

"Fang?" the strawberry blond asked in a hushed voice, immediately noticing that there were no arms around her as there usually were.

There was something like a whispered response, but Lightning couldn't make out what had been said. It might as well have been a grasshopper sneezing.

This, in itself, spoke volumes to the soldier, and immediately her heart swelled. She rolled over, already knowing what she would see if she could make out more than shapes in the darkness.

Fang was there, as she always was, but there was obviously something different about her. Even without any real light source, the sergeant could see she was trembling ever so slightly, like a leaf might shake in the faintest of summer breezes. And her hands and arms were pulled up into herself as if she were holding something precious close to her heart.

"Fang?" Lightning asked again, shuffling closer and wrapping one arm around the warrior, her other hand slipping into one of Fang's. The Pulsian immediately squeezed her hand desperately.

"Dammit Lightnin'…" she heard the brunette curse almost silently, but didn't miss the hitch in her voice.

The grip on her hand tightened to the point where it was almost painful, but she didn't try to withdraw it. Instead she just scooted even closer, until her forehead was touching the Oerban's and their bodies were flush together.

"It's alright.." the strawberry blonde cooed, chest tightening at the knowledge of what ailment befell her lover.

She was remembering.

Fang was remembering her first Focus, her lost memories, everything she'd forgotten. It had started happening shortly after she'd awoken from crystal stasis for the second time. And it only happened at night.

Memories would blend together with dreams to form horrid nightmares, nightmares that would awaken the raven haired huntress at the most ungodly hours of the night and send her into the inner most depths of her own humanity.

That's right. Fang was _human_. She was not some monster, some destroyer of worlds. It didn't matter what she made herself out to be; at the end of the day, she still had her moments of weakness that even she could not contain.

"I killed so many…" the brunette's tone was bordering on a whimper. "An' ya an' Vanille an' Sazh an' Snow an' even Hope…" she continued, her breathing increasing so that it was apparent that she was quickly becoming unable to hold back the sobs in her throat. "Ya were all there… An' I… An' I…"

"I'm right here…" Lightning whispered, the arm around Fang's waist reaching up to gently stroke through chestnut locks.

Fang wasn't a person to show her weakness to anyone. Aside from the first few times she'd had the nightmares, she'd never purposefully woken Light up when the dreams struck. Those first times had only been to ensure that the soldier was, indeed, still alive and well.

"Oh, _Etro_ Lightnin'…" the Pulsian gave a shaky exhale followed by a shudder that was likely her attempt to hold in a cry. "Tha things I did…"

Lightning hadn't discussed these weekly occurrences with anyone, not even Serah. She and Fang hadn't really even discussed them, as the warrior seemed to want nothing more to pretend that they didn't happen when the sun was in the sky.

"Shh…" she cooed, giving the hand laced in hers a tight, reassuring squeeze. "I love you, Fang. Everything's alright…"

The next thirty minutes were filled with whispered sweet nothings, comforting words, and tender touches. If Fang was destined to forever walk in the shadow of her sin than Lightning was determined to walk with her.

* * *

**.X.X.X. Mistake**

Fang watched with a look of mild interest as the soldier offered a consoling hand on the shoulder to the small, silver haired mage sitting next to her.

They had all ducked into one of the cramped rooms on board the Palamecia after their latest run in with PSICOM soldiers. The room was small - from what Sazh said it was standard for a massive war ship like the one they were on - probably only nine feet long by seven feet wide. There were two metal-framed beds that the six of them, save Snow were divided up on.

Lightning and Hope had taken up residence on the bed across from the one Sazh, Fang, and Vanille were all seated on. Snow had chosen to stand by the door, his massive form ready to defend against any attacks should someone come barreling in while they were letting the kid catch his breath.

His face was flushed and he didn't seem all there to be completely honest. It looked as though he were about to simply fall over at any moment if it were not for the steadying hand on his shoulder.

Tearing her emerald green eyes from the kid, the brunette glanced to her red headed partner who had been staring at the scene across from them as well.

"Too much oomph?" she asked, her tone betraying that she found the whole thing at least a little funny. It wasn't everyday she accidentally hit one of her own comrades with a Daze spell while Saboteuring.

Vanille almost jumped at the words, obviously off in her own little world. As soon as she realized that Fang had spoken to her, however, she blinked and a small smile graced her features. Etro, it'd been too long since she'd last seen that smile. The week and a half they'd spent apart in this viper's nest had turned into something of an eternity.

"Just a little." the younger Saboteur responded with a soft giggle. "You're lucky Lightning didn't tackle you on the spot."

Getting tackled by the stalwart soldier? Eh.. That didn't sound as terrible as her younger sibling was making it out to be.

"Speakin' o' tha soldier." Fang started, noting the way that the strawberry blond seemed to take notice of the way the conversation was shifting to her. They were only sitting a few feet away from each other after all. "What's with her an' tha kid?"

This was really a conversation that would have generally been held _away_ from the person it was about, but really, this was Oerba Yun Fang. She tended to break through words like 'normally' and 'generally' on a daily basis.

Vanille, however, was a little less prepared to sit there and hold a conversation about the sergeant, _in front of_ the sergeant.

She glanced to Lightning, looking for signs of irritation or anything else that might lead to a few bullets flying. Then she swallowed and turned back Fang. "What do you mean?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"What do I mean? She's been standin' over him like a bloody Lobo stands over its cub since I met her!" Fang responded almost instantly, trying to hide the grin that was tugging at her lips. She could feel the sergeant's eyes boring holes into her even before she'd even finished speaking.

Vanille fidgeted ever so slightly, harlequin green eyes glancing to where Lightning sat. "He _is_ young…" she started, trying to give a simple explanation before attempting to change the subject. "Did you really get here with Cocoon soldiers?"

Fang ignored her question, persisting on keeping the subject on Lightning. "I jus' never pegged her as tha motherly type." she said in a flippant tone, not even needing to look towards the soldier to know that she was beginning to scowl. They hadn't known each other long, but the strawberry blond had already proven very predictable when it came to teasing.

"With tha' bad attitude an' all…" the warrior continued, apparently oblivious to the fact that Light's right hand, her gun hand, was twitching slightly.

"Kinda figured she'd be tha one ta ignore kids."

A sudden rustling drew everyone's attention from Fang to Lightning. The strawberry blond had a deep scowl on her face, her icy blue eyes flaring with something dangerous. But instead of taking the initiative and shoving her gun-blade down the Pulsian's throat, she just turned to glare at Snow.

"Carry him. We've moving." she demanded, pointing to Hope who still looked out of his mind. The blond giant blinked before quickly nodding his head yes and stepping aside as the soldier moved towards the door.

Vanille glanced down at her hands, Snow shuffled awkwardly towards Hope, and Sazh scratched the back of his head. Fang suddenly felt as though she might have just hit a soft spot with the sergeant. And, apparently, everyone but her knew what that soft spot was.

Vanille was the first to follow after Lightning, awkwardly scurrying after her and glancing back at Fang with worrisome eyes. Snow followed after her, the silver haired teen pulled onto his back as per Lightning's orders.

Fang watched as the other Sentinel stepped out of the room, leaving her in there with the man named Sazh. Her brows knitted together momentarily, re-examining her last statement.

"She's making up for it if you ask me." the gruff voice next to her said once they were alone. She turned to look at him, watching as he stood and stretched. There was confusion clearly visible on her features.

"Makin' up fer what?" she inquired, locking eyes with the older man as his Chocobo poked its head out of his hair. The little yellow bird let out a small cry before flapping its stubby wings, and lifting himself into the air.

The pilot held out his hand, letting the small Chocobo land there before giving it an affectionate stroke with his other hand. "You heard about Serah from Snow, right?" he asked, tone betraying the seriousness of the subject despite his calm demeanor.

Fang nodded. Yeah, Snow hadn't shut up about Serah, his apparent fiancé, since he was captured by the Calvary. She was Lightning's sister, she knew that much, but she still wasn't sure what the gunner was getting at by mentioning the younger Farron.

"From what I gather, Soldier-Girl wasn't exactly there for her sister when she got branded." he spoke, bringing his hand close to his face so the small Chocobo sitting there could hop back into his hair. "Kwee!" it squawked before hurrying back into its makeshift home.

For a moment, what he was suggesting didn't really click with Fang. But then her emerald eyes glimmered with understanding.

Lightning was making up for the mistake she had made. She hadn't been there for her sister, and now she was encased in crystal, only sustained by Anima's power. Hope _had _to have reminded her of her sister in a sense, and now she was trying not to repeat that same mistake she'd made with Serah.

No wonder she was so damn protective of that kid! If Lightning had turned from her sister when she was reaching out for her help than she probably would've had a serious case of déjà vu when Hope reached out to her as well.

"Oh.." the Oerban breathed, suddenly feeling like a bloody Cactaur for saying what she did, even if it was all in good fun.

Sazh gave a curt nod and then let out a heavy breath of air. "I think we should catch up. I doubt Lightning would think twice about leaving us at the moment."

The brunette pressed her lips into a line and then nodded, rising to her feet and following after the gunner to catch up to the rest of the l'cie. She was really going to have a say something later…


	3. Christmas Special

**A/N:** Very happy with how this chapter came out.  
This is FLight, Christmas themed.  
Established relationship. Lots of mush. My kind of holiday~ :D

* * *

**.X. Peppermint**

The soft melodies of Christmas carols drifted through the Farron residence as the inhabitants readied themselves for the upcoming holiday. Smells of the meals to be served tomorrow accompanied the music as it drifted through the air, giving the whole house a very homey feel. The garland, candles, and wreaths positioned throughout the house made the whole place feel distinctly festive.

And if that weren't enough, the decorated pine tree taking the spot light in the living room definitely screamed it was Christmas time on Cocoon.

And for Fang, that was something very new.

Never, in all her wildest dreams, had she ever believed that she'd ever be on Cocoon for Christmas, much less actually enjoying her time here.

She supposed it had something to do with the pink haired soldier leaning on the kitchen counter across from the warrior.

Said soldier looked absolutely stunning in the festive glow. She wore light brown pants that fit her like a second skin, hugging the curves of her legs in wondrous ways. An off white sweater hung around her form, not quite fitting her like the pants she wore, but still showing off the toned boy in just the right ways. A brown belt hung loosely over top of the sweater, just barely dangling from her hips. Boots, not unlike the ones that she normally wore in uniform, were covered in melting snow that hadn't been knocked off when their owner stomped her feet at the door. And one couldn't forget about the light brown scarf draped around her neck or the santa hat sitting atop her head.

And, of course, there was that peppermint.

Since December had come around, the brunette hadn't seen Lightning without a stick of peppermint held between her lips like one might hold a cigarette. She wasn't sure what kind of strange attraction to peppermint the holidays triggered in Light, but she couldn't say she didn't like it. It gave the usually uptight solider a more relaxed look.

Azure eyes flickered towards her, and the Pulsian immediately looked away. She'd been staring for how long now? At least five minutes. From the corner of her eyes, she thought she could see Light's lips turn up in a small smile.

Emerald eyes repositioned themselves onto the three working over a stove - how had the five of them managed to squeeze into the small kitchen of the Farron residence again? Sazh, dressed in an apron, stood in between Serah and Vanille, each one with a pair of fake antlers on their head. Sazh wore no such head gear, but his Chocobo, which was pointing its little head out of his afro, wore a miniature elf hat, made by Vanille.

The trio was currently bickering over how much seasoning to put on the ham. Honestly, Fang would have rather shifted her gaze back to take in the sight that was Lightning, but figured that it as unbecoming of a warrior such as herself.

So instead, she turned her attention to plate of cinnamon gingerbread men behind her. She glanced over her shoulder as she reached for one of the delicious little cookies, not turning around to face the counter as another might. Two fingers closed around one of the little brown men, pulling their prey from the plate with something that could only be described as predatory. Proof she was a huntress through and through.

She turned her head back, intent on staring holes through the wall right _next _to Lightning, but was stopped short when she felt fabric - most likely wool from the feel of it - being draped around her neck and tugged on. Half lidded azure eyes met surprised emerald ones.

Fang hadn't even heard her move. In the short moments that she had turned to grab another gingerbread man, the strawberry blond had pushed herself from the counter she was leaning on and crossed the short distance to where the Pulsian stood. And then, before the Oerban had turned her head fully, the soldier had looped the loose scarf around her neck so that it ran around the brunette's neck as well.

One delicate hand had caught the wrist of the hand that had reached for a gingerbread man, trapping it between the two bodies. Another was gently placed on a tanned shoulder, the stick of peppermint Light had been eating held between two fingers.

She was smiling too - smirking was a better way to describe it actually - with a confident spark in her eyes.

"Don't you think you've had enough of those?" the sergeant asked, breath cold and minty against the Pulsian's face. Probably from all the peppermint.

"No. Never had a gingerbread man before, remember?" Fang's voice was rather level despite the surprise that showed on her features.

At that, Lightning paused for just a moment. Then she leaned into the brunette further, ignoring the sudden halt to the bickering just a few feet away. Apparently they were being watched now.

"The peppermint is better."

And with that, the strawberry blond pressed her lips to Fang's. It was gentle, but lasting; something that had Christmas tenderness written all over it.

And by the time it was over, the Oerban found it impossible to argue with her girlfriend. She had been right: the peppermint was better, especially when it was on the lips of the one she loved.

* * *

**.X.X. Cinnamon**

The soft melodies of Christmas carols drifted through the Farron residence as the inhabitants readied themselves for the upcoming holiday. Smells of the meals to be served tomorrow accompanied the music as it drifted through the air, giving the whole house a very homey feel. The garland, candles, and wreaths positioned throughout the house made the whole place feel distinctly festive.

And if that weren't enough, the decorated pine tree taking the spot light in the living room definitely screamed it was Christmas time on Cocoon.

For Lightning, it was something very new.

Never, in all of her wildest dreams, did she ever believe she'd actually be celebrating Christmas, much less enjoying it.

She supposed it had something to do with the raven haired huntress leaning on the kitchen counter across from her, but small no more than five feet away.

And speaking of Fang. She had expected a jeer or two about the santa hat that her sister had forced on her with a little coaxing from the warrior. Or some kind of come on, at least. It wasn't like her to be so docile.

Azure eyes flickered from the scene at the stove to find the Pulsian's form. Light was surprised, however, to see the emerald gaze of her girlfriend on her. Had she been staring? The simple idea of that was enough to curl the corners of the soldier's lips upward in a small smile.

Fang staring but not doing? Blasphemy. The Oerban had once told her that staring was a sign of wanting something you couldn't have, and that Lightning was certainly not out of her reach. So why was she staring?

Might have been that the sergeant was in an unusually good mood, proof being her tolerance of the red and white cap on her head. Perhaps Fang just didn't want to disturb that good mood and was opting to just watch her.

As considerate as that was, it simply wouldn't do.

She kept her eyes on Fang, drinking in the woman's form with her eyes as she waited for a chance to strike. The brunette wore her usual sari in a show of defiance - she claimed the cold weather of Cocoon could never conquer her - but, as per Light's request, had slipped on a pair of form fitting jeans beneath the lower part of her garb. That was all that the soldier could convince her to wear, however, and because of that, found it incredibly funny when the over confident woman shivered the entire time they were out and about in the snow.

And then the warrior reached for the plate of gingerbread men positioned on the counter behind her.

Her and her damn cinnamon flavored cookies. Ever since Serah had baked a batch sometime around the middle of the month, the brunette had proved to have an insatiable appetite for them. She'd even gotten Light to bake her a few once.

Seizing her chance, the strawberry blond quickly pushed herself from the counter she was leaning against, not making a sound as she crossed the short distance between them even with boots on. Before the tribeswoman had even turned back around, Lightning had already thrown one of the loose loops of her scarf over her head of chestnut locks and caught the hand holding the gingerbread man.

Fang certainly looked surprised, but in a pleasant way.

The soldier leaned into the warrior more, a playful smirk taking its place on her lips. "Don't you think you've had enough of those?" she asked, hardly one to be talking considering her addiction to peppermint.

"No. Never had a gingerbread man before, remember?" came Fang's level reply, her hot cinnamon breath tickling the shorter woman's face. No doubt it was from all the gingerbread men she'd been eating.

At that, Lightning paused for just a moment. It was her first Cocoon Christmas, wasn't it? Apparently, from what Vanille and Fang had told her anyways, Christmas on Pulse consisted of nothing more than getting drunk as hell and waving around anything sharp, pointy, and could hurt someone.

That was certainly no way to celebrate Christmas, even if the idea of a few drinks did soon appealing to the solider. She'd have to show her raven haired huntress exactly how Christmas was _supposed _to be spent.

She leaned into the brunette further, ignoring the sudden halt to the bickering just a few feet away. Apparently they were being watched now.

"The peppermint is better."

And with that, the strawberry blond pressed her lips to Fang's. It was gentle, but lasting; something that had Christmas tenderness written all over it.

And by the time it was over, the Cocoon native just about took back her statement. The gingerbread men tasted delightful, especially when they where on the lips of the one she loved.

* * *

**.X.X.X. Presents**

Lightning felt her face color ever so slightly at the way her girlfriend whispered a comment on her gift from Serah hotly into her ear.

She could feel the eyes of the rest of the former l'cie on her as azure eyes stared down at the brightly colored Chocobo print pajama pants. Apparently Serah had thought they'd go well with Fang's Cactuar ones.

"They look easy ta take off."

A swift elbow to the Oerban's gut was enough to get her to back off for the moment, but the soldier was sure she didn't feel Fang's emerald, predatory gaze leave her as the rest of the presents were passed out and then opened.

In her defense, they _did_ look rather easy to slip off, especially if it was a deft, tanned pair of hands doing the removing…

* * *

**.X.X.X.X. Mistletoe**

Lightning was an intelligent person. This notion, Fang had come to find, wasn't a notion at all. It was a fact.

And although sometimes that intelligence was clouded by some kind of natural tendency for recklessness - such as when the solider had decided to try running off on her own in Palumpolum - it was still undeniable that she was clever.

Being able to - almost - single handedly lead a ragtag group of people across both Cocoon and then Gran Pulse was a feat only possible for someone who was either incredibly lucky or had their wits about them. And while the brunette was a firm believer in Lady Luck, Light dismissed the idea as silly. Which left the latter of the two options.

So when, for the third time in the last ten minutes, the warrior recalled that she had to go to the kitchen to get something and dragged the sergeant with her, she was surprised when there wasn't even a roll of azure eyes. She stopped in the doorway, as she had done every time they'd entered or exited the kitchen, and pointed up to the mistletoe.

"Cocoon custom, right?" she asked, flashing a grin.

The bronze huntress then leaned in and brushed her lips against the soldier's in a way that left them both wanting more.

And then backing off and stepping into the kitchen, the brunette paused for a moment, looking around as she placed both hands on her hips. "Bloody hell.." she murmured in mock irritation. "I swore there was somethin' I was s'posed ta get." Then she let out a fake breath of surrender and turned around, shrugging helplessly under the gaze of her girlfriend.

Lightning, for her having the reputation of such a short tempered woman, hardly looked miffed. She normally wasn't one for wasting time, but there weren't any real signs of irritation on her gorgeous features. Then again, the soldier did have one hell of a poker face.

"Sorry, Sunshine. Guess it's back ta tha livin' room, yeah?" she sighed, feigning the tiniest bit of aggravation.

Then the brunette started back towards the doorway, passing right by Lightning and expecting the sergeant to follow her wordlessly as she had done the last three times she'd played her little game.

This time, however, the warrior was caught completely off guard as her girlfriend whirled her about, azure eyes glinting with something unidentifiable. She was mere inches away from Fang's face, the faintest of smiles pulling as her lips.

"Fang." she started, and the Pulsian's heart skipped a beat. "Was there something you wanted from me?" Light asked, voice cool as ever. The warrior noticed the subtle way that the strawberry blond was pushing the two of them towards the door, Fang edging back in reverse as Lightning directed her.

"Whatever could ya be talkin' 'bout, Light?" Fang asked, her voice dripping with faked innocence. So she _did_ realize exactly what it was the Oerban was doing.

The soldier didn't look phased at all by the raven haired tribeswoman's play at innocence. Instead, she just replied in that same level tone, "Just thought you needed something."

There was a long moment where neither of them spoke and their eyes burned smoldering holes into the other's. But then Lightning stopped pushing her.

"I guess that just makes you childish."

And then two delicate hands, ones that had been positioned on Fang's shoulders to guide her, slipped up and around the brunettes neck. Light's lips were on hers; a searing kiss right under the mistletoe. One hand tugged at long, wild locks of dark brown hair.

It took Fang a moment to register the way Lightning had gone from stoic to passionate in the blink of an eye. Once she did, eyelids fluttered closed and tanned hands found their way around her waist, pulling the soldier more into her.

The game she'd been playing had finally given her the results she'd been after from the start. So what if she was childish if she was allowed the privilege that was the soldier's passion?


	4. Christmas Special 2

**A/N:** Lots of Sazh and Vanille in this chapter because I recently figured out how much I really like their characters.

* * *

**.X. Cuddling**

Sazh didn't think he'd ever had such a heart-warming Christmas since his wife died some three years.

Perhaps it was the fact that he had never realized how blessed he was to still be living with his son. Or it could be the fact that he'd never celebrated with such a large group of people that he could truly call family. Either way, this had to be the best Christmas he'd had in a _long_ time.

"Dajh." the older man hummed, eyes softening at the sight of his son playing with the Chocobo chick that had accompanied him on his journey as a l'cie. The single toy he'd been allowed to unwrap earlier was the focus of his attention.

The young boy looked up, eyes shinning as he drove the Chocobo chick around in the toy hover bike he'd been given by Snow. "Yes, Daddy?" he asked, the small yellow bird quick taking flight from the inside of the toy to land in the former Cocoon l'cie's hair.

He smiled warmly and leaned forward from his position seated in the sole armchair in the room, ready to tell the boy it was about time to get some dinner, but was interrupted when a familiar, accented voice spoke.

"Like father, like son, yeah?"

Looking up, dark brown eyes locked onto the smiling figure of Fang a few paces away. She was the reason he hadn't set himself on the couch despite the fact it was much more comfortable. Well. She and Lightning that is.

The two of them currently occupied the couch, spread out on it so there was no room for even the smallest of children.

Fang sat upright, her legs crossed and one foot swaying ever so slightly. Not too odd for the Pulsian. But Lightning; Lightning was a completely different story. She was leaning on Fang, legs pulled up onto the sofa and effectively preventing people - Snow namely - from trying to intrude upon their time together. One hand was resting on the brunette's lap, a tanned one over top of that holding it affectionately.

The two of them certainly weren't being… Secretive about any of this.

He gave a cough, but his smile didn't fade. "What can I say? Chocobos like the Katzroys."

At this, Lightning seemed to give a small smile before tilting her head to murmur something into the brunette's ear. Fang, blinking for a second, then turned to look at Lightning and then mouthed something back. What was said exactly was lost on the gunner, but he had the feeling he should remove Dajh from the room before anything unfit for children happened.

This feeling was confirmed when Fang looked back up to the pilot and suggested, "Isn't it about time fer dinner?" The glint in her emerald gaze was enough to have him haul himself from his seat, stretch momentarily, and then bend down to pick up Dajh, who gave a squeal of delight when he was placed on his shoulders. "Lady's right, Dajh, my boy. It's time to get some of 's cooking."

And then he was off, going around the couch towards the kitchen, but not before catching sight of the two women on the couch begin to brush their lips together tenderly.

By the time the proud father peeked back into the living to check if it was safe for his son and him to read a story before bedtime, her could only spot the back of Lightning's head. He blinked. Perhaps Vanille had needed something from Fang?

That notion, however, was dismissed when said red head nearly scared him out of his boots by approaching him from behind and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What're you doin', Pops?" she asked, giggling slightly and glancing down to Dajh, who stood, hand in his father's, just beside the Synergist.

Sazh turned and gave a small smile, but he moved one hand to his chest, placing it over his heart. "Never any rest for this ol' man." he breathed, shifting a shoulder slightly to bring attention to the story book clutched between his arm and his chest.

Vanille seemed to gaze at it for a moment before giving him a questioning look. "Story?" she asked, those harlequin green eyes glinting with something child-like.

Dajh looked up at this, the Chocobo in his hair chirping quietly. "Daddy is gonna read me The Night Before Christmas!" he proclaimed, giving his father's hand an extra squeeze. The gunner gave a warm smile before reaching down with his free hand to ruffle the boy's hair, much to the distress of the Chocobo taking up residence there. "That's right." he confirmed, looking back to the red head.

She seemed to be contemplating something, but before he could even begin to ask what it was, Dajh went ahead and spoke again. ", do you wanna listen too?"

The Oerban looked down to the small boy, a little bit of surprise on her features. Then she smiled warmly and crouched down so that her jade green eyes were level with his large, chocolate ones. "You know…" she started, hands resting on her knees. "I'd love to listen."

Then she looked up to Sazh, almost as if to ask if it were alright, but he gave her a look that said 'Are you serious?'. Of course she was welcome to listen!

"Come on. Better get in there before Light and Fang go at it again." he jibbed, watching as the Saboteur rose to her feet and gave another childish giggle. "We might only have a few minutes!" she exclaimed, knowing how often things got heated between the two.

And with that, the three stepped from the kitchen into the living room, Dajh linking hands with Vanille as well. Rounding the couch, dark brown orbs were met with both emerald and sapphire ones.

Ah. So Fang _was_ there. She just wasn't visible from the back.

This time, Lightning was the one sitting up, slightly craned over the dark haired woman laid out on her lap. Fang was on her back, head resting on the strawberry blond's thighs, with one hand reaching up to brush lightly against the sergeant's cheek. Light was also running her fingers through the warrior's chestnut locks.

This time it was the soldier would spoke. "Back already?" she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips. If one thing could be said, it was that the whole l'cie ordeal had done wonders for the stoic soldier's unfriendly attitude.

Vanille was the one to answer, pulling away from Dajh's hand for a moment as she planted both of her hands on the arm of the couch, leaning over it to look down at her sister and her sister's girlfriend. "No fooling around you two!" she reprimanded, although there was obvious humor on her features and her tone was light.

The sergeant looked down at the brunette resting in her lap, who arched an eyebrow at the red head. When Vanille kept her gaze on the tanned tribeswoman, she gave a sigh of defeat before gazing back up at the woman lingering over her. "Ya heard tha lady, Sunshine. No foolin' around." she spoke, seemingly getting lost in the azure orbs above her.

Lightning didn't break her gaze with Fang, but addressed Vanille anyways. "Right after this." she said before leaning down pressing her lips to the brunette's forehead, fingers never ceasing to comb through the hunter's dark mane. Said huntress scrunched her face slightly at the soldier's actions, lips pressing into a line. Obviously she had been hoping that her lips had been the target of the soldier's actions.

Vanille gave a light laugh, gently slapping the sergeant's shoulder before turning to Sazh once more. "Ready when you are, Pops!"

Sazh blinked, having knelt down to cover Dajh's eyes while the two women on the couch shared a quick moment. He rose, rubbing the back of his head and lifting his hand from his son's eyes. "Right.. Come on, Dajh." he told the small boy, leading him towards the arm chair he'd been occupying earlier.

Seating himself there, he watched as Vanille sat cross legged on the ground before him, Dajh quickly settling into her lap as they usually did when it was story time. Getting along with the red head seemed to also run in the Katzroy family…

He cleared his throat, pulling the book from under his arm and settling it into his lap. Then he flipped it open to the first page and spared only a moment to look up at Dajh and Vanille, their forms shining in the light of the Christmas tree a few paces away. Then he started in. "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house…" he started, preparing himself for a fairly long story.

Both Dajh and Vanille kept their eyes locked on him as he detailed the story of a man who was lucky enough to meet himself. And as he told about the man in red going about leaving presents, he glanced up to see that Fang and Lightning were also listening, watching him with a set of lazy azure eyes and awestruck emerald ones.

By the time he got to the part about Santa seeing the man in the story, Snow and Serah had happened upon the story telling and had settled themselves nearby in a similar fashion to Vanille and Dajh.

And even Bartholomew and Hope had joined the session when he reached the part about the jolly old elf flying back up the chimney. The other father stood just behind the armchair with his son, one hand on the silver haired boy's shoulder.

The only sound in the whole house was the sound of the gunner's voice detailing the magical way Santa seemed to take off through the sky. Time seemed to stop, almost, all eyes upon him, as he wove pictures of eight tiny reindeer and a sleigh soaring through the air.

"…Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" he finished with a sharp intake of air, shoulders slumping slightly as he paused to catch his breath. There were a few rounds of applause from the crowd - namely from Vanille, Dajh, and Snow - and the older man held up his hands, a small grin tugging at his lips, to silence the clapping.

Then he rose, looking down to Dajh, and said, "Well. I don't know about the rest of you, but this little guy's gotta be in bed before Santa comes." Snow gave a hearty chuckle and said something about him and Serah getting to bed as well. Then he picked up the small, light haired woman, ignoring her flustered protests and hurrying off towards the stairs.

Bartholomew and Hope were the next to excuse themselves, Bartholomew claiming it was getting late and that he and Hope should be heading home. Saying a quick word of goodbye, the two headed towards the door, promising to return early the next morning.

Looking down to Dajh, who appeared to be having trouble keeping his chocolate eyes open, he watched as Vanille picked herself up from the ground, holding Dajh in her arms. She smiled at Sazh, and he returned the gesture whole heartedly before taking the young boy from her and setting him over his shoulder.

"Merry Christmas." he nodded to the red head, still smiling happily, and he received a similar phrase from her. Then he turned to the two on the couch.

They had shifted once again, this time pulling the off white blanket that was usually draped over the back of the couch into the mix. Spread out across the couch, Fang laid on her back, Lightning over top of her, head of strawberry blond locks resting on her girlfriend's chest. The soldier's arms were acting as a pillow for the brunette, with her forearms beneath the warrior's head of raven locks. The blanket was pulled over them, covering everything from the stomach down.

"See you tomorrow, you two." he chuckled, seeing the soldier shift slightly to look over her shoulder at him. She blinked once, a silent goodbye, before settling her head back down on the warrior's chest. Fang herself looked as though she were just as tired as Dajh, and was struggling to keep herself awake. "Yeah…" she yawned, gazing at him from half lidded emerald orbs. "Night, old man."

And with that, he cast a final glance at Vanille before turning to head towards the door.

* * *

**.X.X. Santa**

For Vanille, waking up had never been easy. Back in Oerba, some five centuries ago, it usually took the majority of the orphanage to rouse her from sleep's sweet embrace. Fang, even, would often times carry her around over her shoulder for up to an hour after the brunette had already risen as she waited for her sister to follow suit.

But today was a little special. It was her first official Christmas on Cocoon. Actually, it was her first Christmas period. Back on Gran Pulse, they'd had a celebration of the winter solace, but that was nothing like the holiday up here.

Drinks were passed around for anyone old enough to stand on their own two feet, and all manner of challenges were waged. Fights were the most common, but she'd also been witness to races, drinking contests, and even group slays. Usually, the day after the festivities, there were numerous injuries and most couldn't stay on their feet due to massive hangovers and too much partying.

Needless to say, she was thrilled when she found that traditions on Cocoon were almost nothing like they were on Gran Pulse.

Hanging lights, erecting a tree and decorating it with multicolored bulbs, stringing the house with garland, and gathering around a table of food with family and friends; she was enthralled by it all.

The one thing, however, that seemed to fascinate her the most was the existence of a man by the name of Saint Nicholas or, as he was sometimes called, Santa Claus.

The night before, Sazh had read a story detailed the way the mysterious man in red appeared in people's houses on Christmas Eve to deliver presents to those who had behaved themselves all year.

The Oerban had been confused as to how this went about, and, later, she had asked Lightning. The soldier, who had been preparing to go upstairs with Fang for the night, went about explaining a few of the things she hadn't understood, but looked a little confused as to why she had taken such interest in the story. How was Light to know that she had taken it literally, and was unaware that it was just a story for children?

After hearing about the specifics, the red head had declared that she'd be staying up all night to wait for the jolly old man.

She ignored the subtle suggestions from the sergeant that she should go ahead to sleep in her room, and settled herself on the couch, all wrapped up in the blanket that had been covering her sister and the strawberry blond earlier.

Fang had something like a contemplative look on her face, although she remained silent, and was led away by Lightning, who was mumbling something under her breath about 'childhood innocence' and 'Snow'.

And then Vanille had sat there for some undetermined amount of time, staring holes into the fireplace as she watched for the elusive Santa Claus.

But.. The fact that she was waking up now was proof that her attempt to spot the jolly old man had failed. Miserably.

"Drat…" she muttered with a yawn, propping herself up on one elbow and rubbing her eyes. Disappointed could not even begin to describe how she was feeling right now. She'd definitely wanted to see the man who made a living out of bringing joy to children one day of the year.

Throwing her dainty legs over the side of the couch, she sat up, gave another yawn, and then forced her still sleepy form to her feet. Even if she couldn't see Santa, she wanted to check if she'd been left anything.

"Ooo!" she breathed, a smile lighting up her features at what appeared to be a new Rod for her, wrapped up in a bright pink scarf. She bounced over towards where it lay beside the fireplace.

But then something odd caught her eye. Was that... Kain's Lance? She blinked, confusing shimmering in her harlequin green eyes, before stepping over to the spear with her new rod and scarf in hand. And was that a blanket around it? That certainly hadn't been the night before. Why would it even be there in the first place?

It was at this point that the Saboteur became aware of the almost hushed voices in the next room? 'The kitchen?' she wondered as she tiptoed towards the doorway to see who was up at this hour.

"An' how was I s'posed ta know ya were makin' things up?" the familiar voice of Fang asked, slightly irritated and... Was she flustered?

"I thought it would be obvious." Lightning, and she sounded almost comical. Something the Oerban had done certainly put the soldier in a good mood.

"Well it wasn't." the Pulsian shot back, and the red head thought she heard her huff.

"And that made you get up in the middle of the night to 'guard' everyone from-" Light started, but then cut herself off short when Vanille suddenly stepped into the kitchen. She looked as though she were afraid she might have just revealed an important secret.

Fang sat at the kitchen table, wearing nothing more than a dark tank top and her usual pajama pants. Lightning stood a few feet away, leaning on the kitchen counter with her arms across her chest. She wore a lighter top and dark blue shorts.

"Morning." Vanille hummed, holding her gifts close to her chest before giving the two of them a critical eye. Fang looked like she'd missed out on quite a bit of sleep judging by the bags under her eyes and the cup of coffee in her hands. Fang _hated_ coffee. She must have seriously needed the boast if she was drinking that.

The strawberry blond in the room seemed to relax for some reason, and then smiled for the younger Oerban, asking, "Santa bring you those?" Vanille nodded enthusiastically, but did not miss the glare that the dark haired huntress shot at Light. "They were waiting by the fireplace, just like in the story!" she grinned.

But then Fang suddenly jerked from her seat, leaving the cup of coffee behind, and murmured something about going to get some sleep. She cracked her neck on the way out of the kitchen, leading her younger sibling to assume she hadn't slept in a very comfortable position.

She watched the doorway for a few moments after the other Pulsian's form had disappeared before turning to Lightning with a small pout playing at her lips. "What's wrong with Fang?" she asked, moving over to take a seat across from where Fang had been sitting.

The soldier seemed to think about this question for a moment before smiling and answering, "She got out of bed to wait for Santa too. But she fell asleep before he came." Vanille quirked an eyebrow at her explanation. "Then why was Kain's Lance...?" she trailed off, having no idea why her sibling's spear would be positioned in the living room like it was.

"Probably just a little nervous about meeting him." Lightning looked as though she were trying to restrain a small chuckle, and Vanille felt as though she might have just missed something.

* * *

**.X.X.X. Sneeze**

The cold was biting, its jaws sinking deep into Sazh's body like a Silver Lobo might have in his l'cie days. His breath escaped his lips in a long stream of mist, and he was only spared from the full force of the cold through his many layers of clothing.

He was dressed in his usual attire, as it was rather warm to begin with, but with a heavier shirt beneath his coat and a pale yellow scarf wrapped around his neck. His hands were also covered in the protective covering of dark gloves, but were buried deep in his pockets for good measure.

Lazy dark eyes chanced a glance at the two women to his right. One was just as bundled up as he was, but the other had stubbornly refused to change her attire apart from adding a pair of dark denim jeans to fight off the chill.

One guess as to the two he was talking about.

"T-This? This ain't n-nothin'." a deeply accented voice protested through chattering teeth. Fang, dressed in her sari - sandals and all - and a pair of jeans, was trying to tell Lightning that she wasn't the lest bit cold. It was _snowing_.

The sergeant was much more suited for the cold weather, as she was dressed in an off white sweater adorned with a light brown scarf. That didn't stop her lips from growing chapped or her nose from taking on the appearance of a cherry, though.

The pilot licked his own lips at the realization that they were as chapped as the soldier's.

The gunner made a mental note to make Snow go out the next time Fang and Light were late for Christmas dinner. Had he thought to do that, he might not be out here now, hurrying along the icy pathways that had been stomped out by many other commuters with the two women at his side.

"I can hear that." Light responded, bringing one hand to her forehead in irritation. Apparently she'd only barely been able to get the brunette out of the house with those pants on.

"What's t-tha', Sunshine?" came the cocky, almost innocent sounding response from the Pulsian. Did they ever stop bickering? Ever?

The soldier mumbled something under her breath about pushing her into the snow and then seeing how fine she was, and this only made the Oerban give a half hearted laugh. He supposed it was hard to be snide when you were freezing.

"I'd listen to the lady." Sazh took this time to give his opinion on the matter. "Cause I'm a little too old to be carrying you around once your legs have froze." he told her, tipping his head back slightly and looking at her from the corner of his eye.

The brunette turned to look at him, fighting back shivers that continued to rock through her form, and then scowled. "Oh, ya got somethin' ta say now Old Man?" she asked, the playfulness in her tone dulling the edge of it. He just smiled in response and gave a small shrug.

"Just that I wouldn't be testing the sergeant when you're living with her." he told her, knowing the feeling of getting kicked out of the house. Although, that had been a _long_ time ago.

"An' jus' what are ya sug-" the raven haired huntress started before a soft '_achoo_' floated through the air. All speech stopped as Fang turned to look behind her, almost as if to expect Vanille to be standing there.

"Bless you." Sazh hummed as though there were nothing wrong, finding the Commando's actions a little odd. To this, Fang turned to look at him, an almost critical expression on her face. "Tha' wasn't me." she said blankly.

He bit back a chuckle, knowing she would not take well to being laughed at. "Not you. Lighting." to this he nodded his head in her direction, and he watched as Fang turned to look to the woman on the other side of her.

"Tha' was _ya_, Lightnin'?" she asked, suddenly sounding flabbergasted. The strawberry blond gave her a cross between a scowl and questioning look. "And?" the sergeant asked, an edge to her tone that sounded almost defensive. He couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at the deep chuckle that the Pulsian let slip from her lips.

Lightning growled a demand as to what Fang found so funny, and Sazh couldn't help but believe she shared the opinion that Fang was laughing at her.

"Oh! Oh.. S-Sorry, Sunshine. I jus' though I h-heard a mouse sneeze there f-fer a moment." the brunette responded, barely keeping her voice level due to her chattering teeth and the humor in her tone.

Sazh had already flinched before the Pulsian's surprised cry rang through the air. Lightning had, in the blink of an eye, pulled her girlfriend towards her, only to shove her into the foot or so of snow beside her.

* * *

**.X.X.X.X. Ribbons**

A head of dark red curls bounced atop Vanille's head as she bounded through the hallway of the second floor of the Farron house. She had just been told to fetch Snow, Lightning, and Fang by Serah, who had prepared a big breakfast for the day after Christmas.

It wasn't a surprise that Snow had slept in longer than she, but Light and Fang were usually already up by the time she had dragged herself from bed.

Skipping to the door she knew was to Serah and Snow's shared room, she rapped on it gently before pushing it open and peeking inside. "Snow!" she hummed, watching as the blond giant gave a groan and rolled over in the tangle of covers he called a bed. She giggled, trotting inside and giving him a wide grin and a light shake.

"Wakey, wakey!" she laughed, hearing him give another groan and then a promise to be up in a few minutes. "Serah has breakfast ready!" the Oerban announced, and Snow's protests halted momentarily. "One more minute…" he promised sleepily, as he began to rub at his eyes. It seemed like she wouldn't have to come back to rouse him again. Serah's cooking was wonderful, and he certainly liked to eat.

"I'll hold you to that!" she told him cheerfully before turning around and bounding from the room. Next was Fang and Lightning. They should be easy to wake!

Exiting Serah and Snow's room, Vanille skipped down the hall to the room she knew as her sibling's and the sergeant's. She repeated the process from earlier, rapping lightly on the door before poking her head in.

The Saboteur was certainly right about it being easier to awaken the two women. In fact, they were already awake.

Unfortunately, they also happened to be completely bare save for the blanket that was draped loosely around each of their shoulders. Fang also happened to nipping at the soldier's ear, whispering something before stopping and glancing up at the interruption.

"Yes?" the brunette asked as though she wasn't in bed with her girlfriend, who happened to be wearing but a… Was that a ribbon around her neck?

All manner of images that she certainly didn't want to be envisioning flooded her mind, most of them involving Light making up for her lack of a present to give Fang the day before.

"Augh!" she clamped a hand over her eyes and turned around so her back was facing the two. She heard Fang say something about the door being closed and her learning not to barge in, but she was hardly concerned with that. That was _not_ the image she wanted first thing in the morning.

"Breakfast!" she just about yelped before hearing two women chuckle. Then she hurriedly closed the door and just about ran down to where Serah was waiting with breakfast.


	5. Shitty Highschool AU

As there seems to be a little confusion as to why I'm posting this particular story here, I'll go ahead and clarify. This is simply a dumping ground for all of the oneshots which take place in the Final Fantasy XIII universe. This is not solely for the word prompts and drabbles I was so fond of a year ago, and I will be dropping more stories of this structure here in the future.

* * *

You see her on the sidelines just as you step onto the pitch, cleats digging deep into the field. You don't pretend you're not looking, don't pretend you're too busy sizing up the girls opposite to you or observing how terrible the turf is and how you might roll an ankle if you aren't careful. You think if you tried, you could appear focused on the game, on your teammates, on the goal, but you don't even attempt to check your gaze. She's looking back at you with that smile on her face and calls for you. You don't smile back.

You only drop your eyes when the referee steps into the center of the field and calls to both goalies if they're ready to go—you don't get distracted. When the referee blows his whistle, it's you on the pitch and all you do think about is the girls opposite you and the patchy grass and your teammates and the goal.

Halfway through the game, you are the only thing keeping the other team from dominating the center of the field. None are particularly skilled, but they pass the ball well enough to make up for it. Half of your defenders aren't in position, and they've scored on you twice because of this. Your team has yet to touch their goal, and you've already singled out the disconnect: one of your attacking players, a forward with two years on the team, is watching the game more so than playing it. Twice the ball was put within ten yards of their goal, and both times she stopped halfway through her run because the goalie made a move toward the ball. That kind of hesitation, that kind of indecisiveness, has lost your team two chances to make up lost points.

You address this as soon as halftime is called. You don't sugarcoat things, you never have, and you tell her to either get the ball or save it for someone who is willing to go head to head with their team's goalie. She bristles and begins to fight you, but you won't have it. "Make up your mind." You tell her. "You either want it or you don't." Then you turn to meet with the rest of your team and your aged coach to hear the positions for the next half.

The game ends 1-3, and the only goal scored on your side was driven in by a mid-fielder from outside the eighteen yard box. The forward you talked to barely moved the entire half.

You shake hands with the other team and then look up for the first time since the referee blew the whistle. She's still on the sidelines, wild brown hair whirling about her face and whites of her teeth showing as if you'd never looked away. And, as always, her arm is draped around the shoulders of a brunette when she walks to meet you at center field.

Your face is a blotchy red from exertion, but you've got a water bottle in hand, and you're not breathing hard like you were. "Good game, Farron." Fang calls to you, jerking at the edge of your jersey when she draws close enough. "But you might as well have played with five." She tells you. "Not even that." Lebreau is quick to add, smiling at her as well. "You and the other mid were the only ones breaking a sweat out there."

"We've got two weeks left in the season, and no one wants to work anymore." You huff, and Lebreau gives a snort. "Speaking of, maybe you can convince this one to stay in her government class long enough to graduate." She rolls her eyes and presses her fingers into Fang's hips. "I haven't had any luck." Fang grins, positively proud, and then says "Thirty-two days, babe. Thrity-two days." You roll your eyes as well, though you're not smiling, and tell her flatly, "Stay in class." Then you turn, glancing over your shoulder, and tell them, "I've got to go." Fang looks a little confused, and after a moment, she calls out to you, "I'll be expecting my lecture later!" Then she turns and says something to Lebreau, and Lebreau laughs and the two of them turn to head to Fang's car.

* * *

Serah yells down the stairs to you that mom has already left for work when you open the front door. You pull off your socks and shin guards at the door and call back to her that you expected as much because her car isn't in the driveway. Somewhere upstairs, you hear Serah drop to the ground, and you think it's about time she got rid of that bunk bed before she drops through the floor.

"So how was the game?" she asks, bare feet slapping against the carpet as she descends the stairs, hair tied up behind her and flannel pants hanging from her hips. You smile, picking up your gear and dropping it into your bag for practice tomorrow, and tell her, "Morgan scored, but we couldn't keep it together in the back, and they beat us." You set your cleats by the door. "Have you finished your homework?" She rolls her eyes and blows out a raspberry. "Yes, jeez."

You ignore her and begin toward the kitchen. It's six, and you've got an hour to finish math homework before you need to start on dinner for the two of you and something to leave in the fridge for mom when she gets home after work. You think you'll be lucky to finish half.

"How was Courtney today?" Serah asks, following you into the kitchen and heading to the sink for a glass of water. "Same as always." You respond, sitting at the table and pulling your calculus book from your bag. You flip it open to the page assigned, and add on, "She barely moved the whole game." Behind you, Serah leans on the back of your chair and peers over your shoulder. "When's the coach going to take her out?" she asks idly, and you just shrug. "He's got her up there for some reason." You begin to scribe the first problem onto the paper. "But I couldn't tell you why."

She hums in her throat and watches you for a while before setting down her empty glass and beginning to undo the braid keeping your hair out of your eyes. "So…" she begins, fingers combing through your hair. "Was Fang there?" You try not to sigh. "Yeah." You tell her, and she asks, "And?" You glance over your shoulder at her and give a little smile. "And nothing has changed since the last time you asked." She frowns at this, scrunching her nose up and releasing your hair long enough to turn and throw her hands up. "Argh, that girl!" she groans, and you turn back to your work because you've heard this all before.

"Who does she even think she is?" she fumes. "I swear, I've just about walked up to her when I've seen her in the hallways!" You smile and say, "But you won't." She turns and lets out another groan. "Only because you say so, but it's so hard not to say something—especially to Vanille! _She'd_ talk some sense into her, I bet you she would." You're barely listening at this point because you've seen the script before. "But you won't say anything to her either." She shoots you a look that you can feel, and you can practically hear the way her shoulders sag. "If you say so." She takes a seat in the chair next to you, and says, "But if you ever chang—" "I know, Serah. Thanks." She smiles and then looks at you in just that way so that you know exactly what she wants to talk about.

"Want to talk about Snow?" you ask, sighing and tucking your paper back into your book and shutting it. Serah makes a show of pretending that's definitely not what she wanted to discuss. "What? I mean, yes, but you don't mind, do you?" she asks, and you roll your eyes. "What happened?" She smiles, blushes, and then leans back, using her hands to show you exactly how excited she is. "He's going for Prom King!" she tells you. You try not to scoff. She ignores you. "Which means I'll be running with him."

You nod and remind her how you can't be prom king if you aren't passing all of your classes, and she shushes you and tells you that he _will_ be passing all of his classes by next week. You're skeptical, and you let her know this and ask her again if she's sure she even likes him(because how could anyone?), and she tells you she swears she'll push you down the stairs the next time you ask her that.

You get absolutely nothing done before it's time to start on dinner.

* * *

Four hours later, you've showered and eaten and done a bit of picking up around the house, and you're sitting up in your room with the door pushed to and the remnants of your homework scattered around you on your bed. You've been debating whether you really need to pick up your english reading assignment, and after glancing at it a final time, you decide it can wait until later. You rise, pick up your headphones and then return to your bed, pushing the books and papers to the side so you can lie down. You push the headphones into your ears and then press the button and let the sound lull you off while you reach for your phone to set an alarm for the morning.

When you look at your phone, you realize Fang texted you hours ago, and you snort at the message. "_wat? nothin 2day?"_ You flip open your phone and send her a response: "_You only saved one letter typing that."_ Then you set your alarm and place your phone on your nightstand, flip the light on the table off, and call a good night to Serah. She yells back at you from across the hall, and then you close your eyes and think that this will be the earliest you've gone to sleep in a long time.

The sound of buzzing cuts through Brian Crain's piano refrain, and you open your eyes and think of course she's already texted you back. You reach for your phone and open the message. _"o shut up, u no it doesnt even mattr :P"_ And god, now she's using those stupid faces. "_Yes, because who cares if you sound retarded?"_ you fire back, belatedly realizing you should just go to bed. That plan is shot, however, when your phone buzzes again, and you decide this is simply one battle you cannot win. "_yea ok watevr. u ok? prob busy right?"_ You take a moment before sending her a text back. _"Mom had her shift at the hospital switched around, and Dad is still out on business. I had to be home to stay with Serah."_

It is officially the worse excuse you've ever given, and you fully expect her to call you on it. She does. "_wat thats so stupd shes like 16 now farron"_ And a few moments later, your phone goes off again. _":/"_ You roll your eyes. Uncalled for, Fang. _"She and Snow are running for prom king and queen. I wouldn't want them to start celebrating before they've even won."_ You respond, and that's a very real concern. It takes a moment for Fang to reply, but when she does, you're almost impressed with her diction. _"haha o wow farron wat a hypocrite. jus let em bang already"_ You cringe, trying not to smile as much as you are, and type back, _"Shut up. Not in the house."_

"_ok watevrrr so u had 2 stay wit serah 2day. wat bout next time? good then?"_ You frown. You don't think you'll be free for a while. You tell her this in less blatant terms. _"I don't know. Probably not. Mom's schedule might not be back by then."_ At least that was true. _"dam that suks i gues ill hav 2 visit u 2morow 2 make up 4 it :)"_ You scoff. _"If you visit me, I'll have my teacher write you up for skipping."_ She proves undeterred. _"yes watevr well c wat u say 2morow ;)"_ You set your phone down on the nightstand and absolutely refuse to respond to that.

* * *

Fang shows up, as promised, twenty minutes into gym and slips right into the crowd without your instructor noticing. You are severely unimpressed. She catches you, hair pulled back and all smiles _as usual_, and you tell her, "You really aren't going to graduate at this rate." She frowns but then smooths the expression from her visage. "Sure I will. Even with your nagging."

You scoff and tell her, smiling, "I don't think you'd have made it this far without it." She scoffs right back at you, pulling you from the crowd by the shoulder of your shirt and stopping only when you've reached the wall of the gymnasium. Your back is pressed to the wall, and she's right next to you, one shoulder digging into the brick while she tells you, "Sure I woulda." There's a crease in her brow like she thinks she's right, and you think you're finding it funnier than she'd like. "Don't give me that look, Farron." You tilt your lips like you've got no idea what she's talking about. "Then get back to class."

She huffs and rolls her eyes. "Fine, fine." She holds up her hands and pushes herself off the wall. "I'll leave." She almost fools you into thinking she's actually going back to government. The smile breaking out across her face gives her away. "But you're coming with me." You've only got a second to start to smile and shake your head before she's got you under her arm and is dragging you out of the gym, both of you laughing.

When you breach the doors, somehow unnoticed, she's got you in a headlock, and you're jabbing her in the side with your elbow. When she tightens her grip, she push right up against her until she's stuck between you and the wall and she's got to let you go. You're still chuckling, and she says, "Watch it, Farron. Skipping _and_ fighting? They'll suspend you for that." You leave her against the wall and begin to walk. "You started it." You tell her, and you can hear her follow behind you.

"Huh." She says, nearly falling into your back. "I dunno." And she's got her chin pressed to your shoulder and her arms linked around your hips. "Think I could use a few days off school. 'Specially if you'd be off too." She lets out a content sigh, and you wrap your fingers around her wrist. "I wouldn't talk to you." You say dryly, lighthearted expression washed from your face.

She laughs, a single syllable right in your ear, and declares, "Sure you would." She sounds quite certain. "Course I wouldn't have to wait for you to get suspended if you'd take a day from soccer once in a while." You frown, a deep crease across your face, and slow down. "You wouldn't have to wait for suspension if we didn't have to be alone."

She, predictably, stops, halting you as well, and you can see her face twisting up from the corners of your eyes. "Hey," she's whispering right in your ear, and you sigh. "_Hey_," Fang's nearly hissing. She pulls back just enough so her arms can hang at her sides and she can stand on her own. You turn to face her, still frowning, and you know nothing's going to change just by looking at her. She brings her hand to your jaw and slides her fingers back into your hair. You sigh and close your eyes: defeat in entirety. She leans into you and her lips are soft against yours.

You wish she wouldn't do this. She's avoiding the issue _again_, and you know you won't be able to touch the topic again after this—she'll keep you busy enough so you can't.

She pulls back and gives you a lopsided grin. You wish your stomach wouldn't knot so much at the sight of it because that's the face you've seen her give Lebreau more times than you can count. "Hey, I'm not scared of nothing." She pulls you closer before you can tell her that's not the problem, and you just end up biting your tongue as she bites your lower lip.

* * *

You kiss her hard when the last of the cars has pulled from the parking lot. She straddling you in the passenger's seat of her 1999 Buick Regal, and you've got the taste of cigarettes on your tongue. She and Lebreau must have been smoking before they came to the game.

The thought makes you dig your fingers into her mess of hair, and she tugs back, her fingers catching in your jersey and pulling it taunt against your front. She's making you dizzy with what her lips are doing, but you don't think you'd ever be gone so far that you could ignore the taste on her tongue. Assuming you even _would_.

It's deceptive how much she's putting into this—it would almost make you think that she's gone and forgotten all about Lebreau and their five month, which they celebrated only yesterday. It makes your stomach knot, but not like when Fang smiles at you just so. You push your head back into the seat, pretending to come up for air, and she doesn't even give you that.

Her lips are at your neck, and you're breathing hard despite it all. "Fang…" you breathe, and you know it's not nearly controlled enough to catch her attention. She hums against your throat, teeth just grazing the skin below your ear. "_Fang."_ You try again, dropping your hands from her hair and wrapping your fingers around her biceps. She pulls back just a bit, licking her lips and giving you her best, half-lidded smirk. "Farron."

You suck in a breath and say, " I don't like this." She frowns, brows knitting, and leans back just a bit more. "_This._" You motion to the car and the two of you. She tenses her shoulders just a bit. "Well, we don't have to be _here_—" she starts, but you're not so easily distracted by her misunderstanding. "You and Lebreau." You say. "And you and me."

Her face screws up, blank to uneasy, and she shifts in your lap. "C'mon, Farron." She begins, and she's glancing out the window so she doesn't have to look at you. "Not right now." She slides on hand across your shoulder and the other up into your hair. You know she's leaning into you before you can even feel her lips on yours again, but you press your hands against her shoulders so she can't reach you. "When are we going to talk about it then?" you ask, and you can feel ire on the tip of your tongue even stronger than the cigarettes on hers.

She lets out a long breath, shifting again, and says, "I dunno." Your brows begin to knit. She must notice because she frowns and tips her head back just a bit so she doesn't have to see. "Why's it even matter?" She glances down at you and catches sight of your expression. "Don't give me that look." She tells you, huffing and then trying to erase the expression from her face. "We'll talk _later_."

You don't want to talk about it later. She's been delaying this conversation since before her countdown had dropped below the hundreds. You're tired of waiting. You're tired of telling Serah the same thing every time she asks about Fang. You're tired of feeling guilty whenever Lebreau enters a room(even more tired of comparing yourself to her every time she's not there), and you're tired of Fang's damn indecision. You want an answer, so when she starts to lean into you, starts to sweep it under the rug again, you decide you're not about to be pacified.

"Fucking _no._" you hiss, fingers digging into her hips as you pull her roughly toward you. She straightens, looks surprised, and pulls back away from your grip. "You're never going to talk with me." You tell her, and it's taking all your self-control not to snarl. "So just listen for once." She squirms, looking away, and begins to mumble, "Look, Farron, I don't—" You drag her back towards you again, and she freezes mid-sentence, stiffening again and letting out a soft breath. "I said _listen_."

She's not going to subvert you this time. You scrap your nails against the skin against her pelvis, and you hear her choke back another distraction. "I'm tired of this." You say, and she looks down at you, lip held between her teeth. "You made a choice already." You tell her, fingers to the fly to her pants. "And now you've got to make another one." You open your legs, slip your hand below the silk of her underwear, and press two fingers to her clit. She jerks and shudders.

(Nevermind you haven't even spoken about her first choice, and that was five months ago.)

"I don't want to keep doing this." She's got her eyes screwed shut, but that's alright because you just need her ear. You've still got your fingers on her, and she's twitching and letting out heavy breaths and gripping the shoulders of your jersey. "And I won't." Your fingers tangle in her hair when she turns her head to the side, eyes still closed, and tug her back so she's facing you. "So make up your mind." You hiss at her, and she barely opens her eyes to look at you. "You either want me or you want her."

Fang doesn't respond, just keeps panting and jolting, and you grit your teeth and set you jaw and slide your fingers lower to push inside her. She tips her head back, moaning, and drives her hips down against you until she's hitching your name and shaking and trying to kiss you but you _won't_. And then she goes limp against your frame, and you huff, withdrawing your fingers and wiping them on the denim of her jeans.

You don't give her a chance to regain herself before you're pushing her from your lap into the driver's seat, and then you open the door and rise and begin to straighten your twisted jersey. She grunts at you when you grab your bag from the back seat, and you don't even look at her. "You've got seventeen days until we graduate." You tell her flatly, reminding her of her counter. "So figure something out before then." Then you shut the door, turn, and begin to walk home.


	6. Tarantism

_Tarantism – the state of having a devil on your back and shaking it off_

* * *

You twirl Fang like she's your sister, the tears imagined on her cheeks and the sobs an echo from another time. You've got nothing for her worries but a dance and a hummed tune, but if that's not enough you can't tell. She's silent, looking over your shoulder, while you guide her by the hip and hand through the steps you haven't taken in years.

You know she's not with you right now, off with Vanille or her friends past, but she keeps up with your steps like she's coming back to the present. She's been bogged down, a noticeable slump in her shoulders, and you've seen the bravado fading faster and faster the nearer Oerba approached. She fooled no one today, walking through the streets and kicking rusted metals, and you were stunningly unsurprised when she came to you while the others slept.

You know she's been trying—fighting for Vanille because that's all she has left. She didn't even need to tell you that for you to get it. She can't let Vanille slip through her fingers like she did her friends, her family, her world. But most importantly, you know she can't allow Vanille to see her like this.

She won't make tomorrow at this rate.

You press your cheek to her temple, her head bent into your shoulder, and you erase her fears with a flourish, a quick move that sends you both spinning about the underside of the orphanage. If not for your recovery, you'd have fallen right into the rubble at your feet, but instead the two of you just stumble, and when you straighten, unmoving, you hear her mumble something into your shoulder. You crane your neck to look at her, asking, "What?" and she finally lifts her head and laughs a single, quiet syllable into your ear.

Then she tells you dryly , "You can't dance for shit."

You scoff, pull her into a sway, and tell her, "I only ever danced with Serah." That was all you ever had for her troubles too.

She turns her head, hand squeezing at your shoulder, and stares hard into the sky. Her brows are downturned, and she keeps parting her lips like she's going to speak before pressing them tight together.

You wonder, stepping idly, if she's weighing the chances of you saving Cocoon with the chances of her tearing it down. You wonder what the odds look like to her.

Then she drops her gaze, lets out a sharp breath from her nose, and quirks the corner of her lips like she's found some grim humor up in the sky. But when she looks at you, her lips have sunken into a deep frown; she keeps her brows angled the same. "So," she breathes like she's collecting herself, "You lot really think you got a miracle in you?" she asks, and you know she's desperate, but she's not stupid.

So you think. You think of the inky black and angry red that grow by the day; you think of the millions of people who are living a spoon fed lie, who are living at the inconvenience of the fal'cie, who will not be living much longer if you don't do something about the fal'cie; you think of Serah, of all the things you told her, of all the things she told you, of the last thing she told you_._ You think of everything that's at stake, and when you've thought of all of that and you start to feel the grip of doubt, you shake it off, leaving your thoughts and your worries behind.

Your steps have slowed to nothing, leaving the two of you standing there, still pressed close. "We won't know until we try." You tell her, and she just jerks her head away, letting out a breath of aggravation. "Yeah, real assuring." She's breathless and lets you go, turning and taking three steps from you. She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Well," she sighs after a long moment, "I sure hope so 'cause I don't know if I got it in me to turn Ragnorak again." Her shoulders sag at this, and you approach her, standing to her side, and tell her, "You don't have to. We're in this together, remember?"

She turns, looks at you, and then gives a low, hoarse laugh. "Yeah," she says weakly. "I guess we are."

You wonder if you'll have to take her into your arms again, sweeping across the ground to make her remember you're there, and somehow you figure you probably will because Fang is set it her ways and stubborn as a mule, but you also think if that's the case, so be it because you can't do this without her. So you just think of it as practice, practice for when you see Serah again and you take her into your arms too.

* * *

_alt. title - there are other, better ways to comfort someone aside from sex_

_alt. title - this is what happens when people listen to too much florence + the machine_

_alt. title - this has been sitting around for weeks and this is the result of an effort to finish all the unfinished documents on my desktop  
_


	7. A Few of my Favorite Things,

_A combination of my three favorite things: desk sex, chair sex, and Fang eating out Lightning._

* * *

You shudder out another shaky '_ah_', and you hunch forward until you're nearly touching the crown of her head with your nose.

Everything is jerky, quivers down to the tips of your toes. Your legs tremble violently, and your left foot nearly drops from the edge of the desk where you've got your heel hooked, the other stretched over the plane of the desk. Your chest is seizing, ballooning suddenly and then shuddering in exhale. You jump, bodily, every so often, and your moans are a broken mixture of syllables and curses because you _know_ she's doing this on purpose.

"Fang—_oh_," you keen abruptly, and your voice cracks because your voice is too dry, and you don't have the mind to keep control of it. Your fingers tighten in her hair, and you bite your lower lips, curling in on yourself as you feel yourself approach your climax—

Fang lets out a long breath, calmly, and draws back a moment, her fingers stilling within you. You can barely see her stupid smirk because your vision is so blurry, but before you can even begin to speak, begin to loose your fingers from her hair and finish yourself off, she starts in on your again, almost like she'd never left.

You let out a long, desperate moan, dig your fingers into her scalp as hard as you can, and lean back in your chair, '_fuck you'_ trapped in your throat.

It's the same each time—just before you're about to finish, she pulls back, just long enough to break the rhythm but not enough to make you lose your buzz. And then her fingers and tongue are back at you, working in tandem to push you right back, and all you can think is how deliciously her fingers curl inside you and how you just need one more second, one more second—

She halts again, but this time you hold her tight against you, so much that she lets out a sharp laugh and resumes her work.

When she circles your clit a second time, you arch your back, stars behind your lids, and let out a sharp '_ohh_' and everything falls to pieces around you.

When you come back, Fang is pressing her lips to your stomach and scrapping her fingernails against your hips. You pant, grit your teeth, and then tug on her hair. She looks up, grins for you just so, and she tells you, "You alright there, soldier? Thought you'd never stop shaking."

You could smack her. Instead, you pull her up to you with your hands, and she's open mouthed and ready for a kiss, but you stop her. It takes you a moment to gather your breath, and her grin goes sheepish in that time. She thinks she's over stepped, and if she weren't so horribly _wonderful_, you'd have agreed.

"Fuck you." You finally whisper, hot and breathy, and you dip toward her, your lips tingling right along with the rest of you.

She stalls and then sets a hand to your hip, the other at the back of your head, and you think she's gotten off far too easy for keeping you on edge for so long. Just as soon as you can stand, you're going to change that.

* * *

_Sometimes I write things.  
_


	8. Serah's Sister

**Warning: joke fic, attempt at humor, and little editing**

* * *

Serah is Vanille's friend, and you're sometimes friends because of that. This means you're nice enough when you see each other without your mutual link, and you're under the pretense of good friends when Vanille does happen to be around.

That's why you're happy enough to talk to Serah like you really know her when Vanille's invited herself (and subsequently you for reasons that include being the only one with a car but not enough gas money for more than one trip) to Serah's house for a celebration of the end of summer.

You told her you'd rather grieve for it, but she just laughed, and Serah gave that little giggle you always hear from her.

But that's why you're stripped down to your swim suit, hanging on the edge of a pool and talking lazily about work with two girls who haven't seen a day of work in their lives.

"Do they really ever go to your manager?" Serah asks, resting with her hand on the edge of the pool opposite you. Her baby face's open with curiosity and disbelief, and her mouth makes an O when you just shrug.

"Sometimes, but food service gets shit like that all the time so Lebreau don't do much-"

"One time she almost got fired, though! Tell her about the woman with the wig, Fang." Vanille laughs and twirls in the water, arms coming up and then splashing down dangerously close to you. You turn away from her so the water don't get in your eyes, and she's right there on your arm when you turn back.

Vanille's got a fascination with customers that give you shit, and she hates when you shrug her off as nosy. She keeps on you until you give, but you're both smiling when you finally cave. You never don't cave, not for Vanille.

But you're not there yet so you jerk your head away from her with the workings of a smile and say, "Interrupting. _Rude._" Her cheeks puff up, and she's scowling. "You know it better than me by now anyway. _You_ tell it." She _hmphs_and splashes you, and you sputter a bit and slid away from her, looking offended.

"Jesus, Serah do you see what I go through with her?" you say, pushing off the wall and away from Vanille. "Downright abusive, she is."

Vanille blows a raspberry behind you and rolls her eyes. "_Whateverrrr_." she huffs, all long and drawn out. "You know I'm the best you've ever had!" she smiles and laughs.

"Oh no, I don't think so. I bet you Serah'd treat me better. Bet you she wouldn't whine or nag or hit me or nothing." you say and then pause. "You know what, Serah you're my sister now. Forget Vanille." You smile at her and she laughs and goes a bit red. You swim toward her slowly, and you can hear Vanille's offended gasp, and you know she's coming after you without even looking.

The sliding glass door to the house opens, and a copy of Serah, years older, walks out and looks right at you.

You feel hands on your shoulders and then all you see is the blue of the water and the pink and white of Serah's suit, and suddenly all the air's gone from around you and you got nothing to breath.

When you come back up, you're sputtering for real, and you can't see for chlorine, but you can hear Vanille laughing, and that's enough for you to grab for her. She squeals when you snatch her by the suit, and you're still half blind when you say, "Dunk me, will you!" and throw yourself up on her shoulders.

She surfaces, all coughs and complaints, and you just smirk. "You just remember that next time." She just whines and laughs a little more, gliding to the wall to catch her breath.

By this time you've got your sight back and your memory too, and you look over to where Serah's—mom?—copy is, standing in just a towel. She's staring at the three of you, wet as you are, and Serah looks like she's trying to work out an introduction between her laughter.

"Friends?" the copy asks when Serah holds up one finger for a moment, and she just nods, still trying to catch her breath. Vanille is smiling, throwing Serah eyebrows like they've got some joke between the two of them, and that quiets Serah down quick enough. She colors a bit, probably from the laughter, and clears her throat.

"_Ahem_," she starts. "These are my friends Vanille and Fang." she says, looking up to her copy, who looks only vaguely interested, more watchful than intent. "Vanille, you know Lightning." Vanille nods and waves, something the copy returns. "But, uh, Fang, this is my sister, Lightning."

"Oh." you say, looking her up and down. You open your mouth again and ask, "So she ain't your mom?"

**o**

And that's how you meet Lightning Farron.

She's two years older than you, a junior in college, and she's got a career lined up in front of her with the military. She's also got a nice car and a family that can afford to slip her a bit of cash if she's running low, _and_she's got two full scholarships so she don't even have to worry about tuition.

But as much as you get to feeling pangs of jealousy for what she's got, you don't think rich military girl with the big house when you think about her. No, when you hear the name Lightning Farron, all you can think is _total babe_.

You weren't wrong when you thought she was Serah with some years. She's got all of Serah's features with the definition that comes with being outta highschool. Sharp face, long lashes, toned everything, and that's not even counting her curves.

You may have been staring.

You may have been _caught _staring.

You try not to worry about that, though, because it only landed you a few too hard elbows from Vanille, and if Lightning or Serah could tell, they didn't let on. You're not sure, but you know without a doubt that you'll never see Lightning Farron again, so it's not a big deal even if everyone there fucking knew.

**o**

Lightning Farron reappears in your life exactly thirteen days later.

She strides into your workplace, impassive as you last saw her, with a gym bag under her arm, a sports uniform that reads _Thunders_, and sweat across her brow. You're not on cash register, and you're thankful for it because "_Hi, welcome to Starbucks_," isn't as suave an entrance as you need to recover from the way you're gaping now or the way you were gaping then.

Your mop and bucket aren't doing much for you either, though, so you shut your trap and scoot over into a corner just as soon as you realize you're staring—_again._She hasn't even looked your way yet, and as the surprise at seeing her again fades, you get the sense to hope she won't, not with you like you are now.

She don't let it on if she has, but you're cautious anyway, pushing the mop particularly hard against a brown stain—oh god, you hope that's coffee—near the bathroom door and only stealing quick glances toward the register every few seconds.

She's brief, quick, and she doesn't make small talk aside from a comment about the weather until her order's come back: a large coffee, black. Something figures about that, military tough and all, and you watch as she turns and think to yourself, _oh no, there she goes._

Despite your nametag and your apron and your black slacks, there's a part of you that wants nothing more than for her to see you and stop for a chat, see you and want to give you the time of day. That same part of you is also responsible for making you imagine her naked and writhing, and that gives you pause.

Besides, you know it's probably best not to talk to her anyway. No telling why she's over in your store, but it's probably some one-time thing anyway, so, this time for real, you won't have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of Serah's hot older sister ever again because you won't see her ever again.

Except she doesn't go. She takes the seat closest to the door, and begins sipping on her coffee like it isn't hot like the sun, and you think, _oh no, now I have to talk to her_.

And maybe you don't _have_to talk to her, but she's got a large coffee and there's no way the two of you could ever not notice each other while she drinks the whole damn thing. And if you notice each but don't say anything, she's gonna think you're the biggest pussy to ever exist. Never mind you still got that part of you nagging to either talk to her or strip her.

So you mop at the stain a few more times, look over your shoulder twice more, and when you think you've got a good enough opener, you take a deep breath and walk over to her, your mop and bucket left over by the brown stain in the corner.

"So," you say, and she looks up, alert at once and graceful enough not to spew that mouthful of coffee all over the table for you to clean up. "Didn't think I'd see you again so quick." Or ever, really. "What're you doing around here?"

She swallows, pauses, and then really looks at you, eyes up and down until she's stuck on your face. "Oh." She says, "You're Serah's friend. Fang, right?"

You're off to a good start if she remembers you, and you smile for it. No reason you can't be funny and score some points with her even if you are at work. Yeah, you got this. "Got a knock to the head since I last saw ya?" you ask because how could anyone forget your gorgeous face so soon? "Dangers of playing…" Shit wait, what did she play again?

"Soccer." she tells helpfully you when you stall for just a second too long. Oh. That's right. _One_ of her scholarships was for sports, soccer specifically. "And no—you just look different without the bathing suit." She takes another long sip of coffee.

You grin and tell her, "I recognized you without the towel."

She laughs at that, quiet, low, and then smiles. She doesn't even look at you when she says, "I wasn't looking as hard."

Suddenly you're eleven and your best friend has just found out you still play house with Vanille. There's a moment of _oh god_ and then one of _oh no_ where your face turns redder than hell and you feel your guts knot with embarrassment.

Lightning Farron saw you staring, and she just called you out on it, and suddenly all you want to do is go crawl in the ground somewhere.

For her part, she looks pleased as can be, eyes closed, smile intact, and sipping like she didn't just carve up your pride and serve it back to you in little pieces.

You shouldn't be so embarrassed. You shouldn't fucking care if she saw because when have you ever cared about something like this? But there you are, red in the face and frozen right to the spot, and you are _so fucking embarrassed._

She doesn't even need to look to know you're floundering. "I, uh," you try, but you're not sure what you should say to make this any better. "Haha, yeah I guess." You spout whatever comes to mind and she just laughs a little. She's just delighted.

"Right. Anyway, _Fang_," she says, and there's something mighty intimidating in the way she's looking at you now, smiling at you now. Your heart starts up like there's gonna be another attack, but she just rises from her seat, smooth as silk, and says, "It was nice talking to you, but I should get going."

You take a step back so she can walk by you, but she stops before the door and turns to look over her shoulder at you. "I'll see you Tuesday after practice." And then she walks out the door before you figure out what that means or even how to talk. You watch her pull out of the parking lot, and behind you, you hear Gadot whistle and call, "Talk about crash and burn!"

He doesn't even know the half of it.

**o**

Vanille's on the living room floor with a science book spread out in front of her, a pencil hanging from her teeth, and her cell phone held just above the text when you come home and fall face first into the sofa. She knows that's her cue to come over, and you hear her stop typing away after a second, and then you hear footsteps She climbs on top of you, laid right over you, and asks what's wrong.

You tell her, "Work." but it's all muffled into the cigarette burned cushions so it comes out like _worf_. She hums, arms folded across your shoulder blades, and then you feel her chin press into the base of your neck.

"That all?" she asks because you can't get nothing past her keen nose for gossip. Sometimes you got the feeling more than sisterly love is at work when she wants to know how your day went, but then you remember you'd be nursing your wounded pride with a tub of ice cream and a marathon of The Walking Dead if she weren't here, so you wiggle and swat at where you can reach her so she'll get off you.

When she does, you turn over so you're face up instead—and damn, you're like one of them psyche-ward patients, and Vanille's your doctor who you're gonna spill all your dirty little secrets to—and she lays her head on your stomach and rubs your upper arm a bit, and goddammit, you feel a little better for it. About as better as you can feel about being such a dumbass anyway.

You sigh deep and tell her about it, and she laughs a bit but mostly keeps it to herself, and you're thankful for that you guess. And when you're done, she just smiles at you and tells you not to worry too much about what Lightning Farron thinks because Lightning Farron is just Serah's older sister and what does she matter anyway.

"She doesn't," you agree, but that doesn't help that she's a total babe and you are continuously making yourself look worse and worse in her eyes. Probably keep doing it too, if she's actually coming back on Tuesday.

"So what's it matter?" she asks happily, and you know she finds the whole thing a little silly, but you're not quite to that point yet because you still get a little red thinking about it so you tell her, "I dunno," Nothing but sarcasm in your tone. "_She's hot."_

Vanille stops rubbing your arm at that, and suddenly she's looking at you funny and you can't tell if she's shocked or horrified. And then all you can think is, _oh no, now Serah's gonna know_ because there's scant any secrets between the two of them even when it comes to you.

If Serah knows then Lightning might hear, and how is it even possible to make such a series of bad first impressions, Jesus Christ_._

So you tack on quick, "And Serah is _not_ allowed to know that, you hear me?" and try not to sound so thoroughly exhausted from all the embarrassment. God, you feel like your ten again, hiding your crushes because no one's allowed to find out.

Vanille squints a bit and then gets this real thoughtful expression. "So…" she asks, carefully. "Do you like Lightning? Like, _like_ like her or just—" You push yourself up onto your elbows and cover her mouth before she can finish, somehow going red again for it.

"No." you say firmly, and her expression softens some. "I met her twice, jeez." You drop your hand away from her mouth, sigh, and fall back onto the couch. "Just can't believe how fucking stupid I sound is all." And you couldn't be any more truthful.

She looks pleased enough by that, but you can't figure out why. "Good!" she announces. "Those don't last anyway! Relationships that really do are with people you've known a while. _Closer_ to you." She grins far too broadly.

You let out a breath of disbelief. "And when'd you become the expert?" you ask, rolling your eyes but smiling all the same. "Last time I checked you were still riding the single train."

She puffs up like she does when you make a jab at her. "Hey!" she says, slapping you lightly, and you don't even pretend it hurts for once. "You are _mean!_"

You just laugh a little and goddammit okay so this was all kind of silly, and you guess it doesn't fucking matter whether you're choking in front of Lightning Farron. Not like anything's ever going to happen anyway. She's probably not even gay.

Yeah, you think, smiling at Vanille, it's not like you're ruining your chances at anything because there are no chances.

Lightning Farron isn't even gay.

**o**

You find out thirteen days later that Lightning Farron is _very_ gay.

You're at Serah's to prove a point: you don't give a shit what Lightning Farron thinks of you. And you're doing pretty good too—least until you catch snippets of Serah and Vanille's conversation.

You're laid out across the sofa with the papers for a second job (librarian—Serah was thrilled to hear it was close to her and Vanille's highschool), and Vanille and Serah are spread across the floor, Vanille dolling up Serah like she's trying to impress.

Serah keeps trying to pull you into the conversation, but your application's got your full attention until you hear the words _Lightning_ and _girlfriend_ in the same sentence. You perk up immediately.

"What?" you ask, and both of them look over at you a little surprised.

Vanille repeats your question back to you, and you ask, a little quick, "What did you just say?"

Vanille's messing with you, you're sure, because she asks, "About what?"

Oh, and ain't that a problem. Now you got two choices: drop the conversation and pretend it never happened or let them both know you're mighty interested in Serah's sister. And you're not sneaky like Vanille; you don't know how to twist things around so no one's the wiser to what you're really asking. All you got in you in bluntness and bravado, and neither's really gonna help you now.

So you swallow and figure why just bite the bullet when you can swallow it whole? "About Lightning?"

They both look at you like they're trying to figure out why you'd care to know, and then Vanille's face twists so you have to wonder if you just took a shotgun round to the back of the throat.

She looks over at Serah, but Serah's already decided it doesn't matter much and smiles at you and says, "Her ex-girlfriend came over the other day. It was incredibly awkward for everyone involved!" then she laughs a bit, and you kind of smile and laugh too because Lightning Farron has an ex-girlfriend.

Lightning Farron has an ex-girlfriend.

Lightning Farron is _gay_.

**o**

Somehow you're not so nervous when Tuesday next rolls around. You demanded to be up front right around when it started getting dark, and you may have even tried a little harder with your make-up so you'd be ready when she walks in.

Your mood goes to shit quick because you're impatient, and because no one ever fucking knows what they want when they come in or either they've got an order a mile long. People will never not piss you off so long as you still work in this fucking coffee house.

But around quarter 'til seven she walks in, shin guards and all, and suddenly you're less aggravated with the guy trying to tell you he wants something caffeinated but not too caffeinated and more interested with what you can see of Lightning over his shoulder.

You offer him a few choices, but you're not really listening to yourself or him so when he finally makes up his mind you have to ask him what he ordered twice. And then you have to wait, pretending to smile at him, while it gets fixed up and all the while you're going over what you're going to say in your head even though all you can really think is: gay, gay, gay.

When he's got his not too much, not too little caffeine fix, he walks and away and she steps up to the counter, and you say, "Hi, welcome to Starbucks." You are not the least bit embarrassed or nervous.

She doesn't smile back at you, just tells you what her order is: one large coffee, black. You send it off and then you're ready for small-talk.

"So who do you play for? Your school, right?" you ask, and you're nonchalant, but she's even more so. You wonder if she's ever gotten nervous or scared or anything with how controlled she always looks.

"Yes, but that's not who I'm with right now. I play in a recreational league too." She tells you, and you don't say anything because you're trying to figure out exactly how much of her day gets eaten up by college and the military and soccer and more soccer. "And before you ask, I play center-mid."

"Oh." You say because your knowledge of soccer is about as extensive as your knowledge of college or the military, which is to say you know absolutely nothing about soccer. "I wasn't going to, but good to know I guess." You shrug, and it's easy. "Guess you get asked that a lot?"

She rolls her eyes and says, "All the time." You imagine nearly every conversation anyone's started with her has gone along the lines of _you play college soccer_ and _what's your position_.

You just smile, and Yuj comes with her coffee and sets it in front of her. You ramble off the amount due, and while she fishes for change in her gym bag, you say, "That's what happens when you get scholarships for sports."

She comes out with a fistful of coins and a few dollars, but she holds them so she can look at you. "And how'd you know that?"

Oh. That's right. She didn't say anything about scholarships, but you just kind of smile and say, "Your sister talks about you enough." And you guess that's true because most of what you know about Lightning comes from Vanille, and most of what Vanille knows about Lightning comes from Serah.

Lightning's expression freezes, and then she gets this little smile, just faint enough to be endearing, and you wonder why you were ever intimidated by it to begin with. She hands over the money, and you're smiling big, and she takes her coffee, and then you say goodbye to each other and Lightning Farron heads right out the door.

Nothing fancy, nothing that screams you'll be anything more than acquaintances, but for the first time since meeting her, you haven't made a fool of yourself in front of Lightning Farron.

You are overjoyed.

**o**

You keep this up for five weeks with Lightning in the shop. You've talked about her school and her sports and her military career, and you've talked about your jobs and your sister and all your responsibilities (and more than a few drunk stories between the both of you), and it surprises you every time that Lightning Farron's not untouchable. She's smoking hot with everything going right for her, but you can talk to her same as you can talk to anyone else.

But of course, you don't always get the chance because you got to work in the back or someone else's got her at the register, but you at least catch her eye when you can't talk and give her a wink before she can march out the door.

Because she doesn't stay to drink much, but once or twice she sits herself down by the door and sips like the world's on hold for her. And you get the urge to go and sit with her, call your break early and order something up for yourself, but you can never come up with any good reason before she heads out the door. And really, you only talk to her when she comes for caffeine, so you don't think there's even a good enough reason at all to let you sit and chat.

So when you come in her house smelling like sweat and lawn clippings, peeling off your sweater and dropping it in a heap on the bar, and you see her sitting in the other room, _Advanced Chemistry_ open in her lap, you nearly shit yourself trying to get over there too.

You close the sliding glass door behind you, give one look to the stairs where you can hear Serah and Vanille's excited voices, and then head for the couch, dropping down next to her like she isn't studying and you aren't filthy.

"Well, well, well," you say, smiling big. You look her up and down, and she's as casual as can be, pajamas and everything. "Didn't think you ever dropped by here anymore. Your school close down or something?"

She doesn't stop scanning the page, eyes going line by line quick and steady, and she doesn't even look up at you when she says, "You could use a shower."

Your smile falters a second because okay _maybe_ you're a little sweaty, but then you're telling her, "Says the girl who leaves sweat stains in the seats! Customers won't even sit at that table anymore!"

That gets her to smile, and she reaches the bottom of the page and then closes it on her thumb, marking it for later. She ignores your jab and asks, "Is there a reason you were mowing my backyard in the first place? Serah had that job, I thought."

And she thought right, but when you showed up, Serah had also just gotten her Homecoming dress, and she was going to show you both 'right after she finished the backyard'. You'd been more than happy to take that off her hands and let her and Vanille go do their thing even despite the look she was giving you.

But someone must have had a peek at you out in the yard to know it was you out there, and the thought that she might have been _staring_ makes your smile widen and stomach knot. "It was either this or dress duty." You explain, and she just says _ah_ like she's been there hundreds of times.

"Serah seemed disappointed." She says, but from her tone you get the feeling that she doesn't blame you in the least, even if that is her sister. "Take a shower and get up there. She'll want you to at least see her in it."

You don't even hear the part about Serah for all your surprise. "What," you ask, "Shower _here?"_

"Where else?" she asks. "It's the second door on the right. Towels are in there. Go get cleaned off." Then she opens her book and turns the page, picking up where she left off.

Your reaction's immediate. You laugh and say, "Might need some help with that last part." You waggle your eyebrows suggestively.

She smiles but doesn't look up. "Busy. Next time maybe."

Your grin is ridiculous.

You elbow her in the side lightly and say, "I'll hold you to that." She just rolls her eyes, and you stand up, stretch, and then head for the hall, practically skipping for happiness at just having traded an innuendo with Lightning Farron.

Your life is officially perfect.

**o**

Your life is officially over.

The shitstorm blindsides you on a Friday afternoon in the library between the Geography and History sections and comes in the form of a question from Serah Farron: would you go on a date with me? You choke and nearly drop the book on New Zealand you're shelving.

You never saw it coming-but now that you think about it, you should have.

You realize with increasing dread that Serah Farron has only ever given you the kind of eyes you've given her sister. You realize Serah Farron has only ever tried strived for your attention like you've strived for her sister's. You realize Serah Farron wants you like you want her sister, and you realize how utterly fucked this makes you.

And Serah Farron is still waiting for an answer even when you realize all of this and then go back through it all again just to be sure you understand exactly what level of fucked you are. By your calculations, you are approximately a prostitute pulling double duty.

And knowing all of this does absolutely nothing for you because Serah Farron is still rocking back and forth on the balls of her heels, hands behind her back, lip between her teeth, and Serah Farron is _still_ waiting for you to do something other than stare blankly at her.

So you do the only thing you can do: "Uh… What?"

She lets out this little breath that's all nervous energy, and then she repeats, "I'd really like to go on a date with you, Fang." It sounds no less damning the second time.

But there it is. You've heard it twice, and there's no getting away from it now. You try to think of something to say to her, some way to break it easy that she's not the one you want, but all you can think is how dressed up she looks, how Vanille must have helped her with her curls and makeup, and that doesn't help you at all.

"Serah, I don't…" You freeze up, but she's already understood what you're saying and is tensing up, mouth falling into an open mouthed frown. "You're just not the girl for me. I, uh, sorry…"

Serah is quick to make like she isn't as upset as she is, and her frown disappears behind a shaky smile and laugh. Her shoulders sag, but she tells you, "No, haha, no it's fine. I just thought I'd finally, I don't know, just get that off my chest." Then she says, "Well! I, uh, I should probably… go." She turns. "So I guess I'll see you later, Fang."

You kind of wave at her and choke, "Yeah."

Your sister is her best friend and her sister is the girl you want to date and between the two of them, your life is officially over.

**o**

Your life is still officially over when Monday rolls around, and you're stuck at the front desk of the library, head on the desk and full of nothing at all. You've talked it out over and over with Vanille the past weekend (and found out she's been dropping hints for _months_ and known even longer than that), and now all you've got left is exhaustion at the whole thing.

Vanille knows about Lightning and Serah and the whole damn thing and how messed up it is, but she said Serah'd get over it 'eventually', and that she didn't think Lightning would hold it against you even if "as Serah's best friend, she should be telling you absolutely no that's not okay to still be worried about trying to hook up with Lightning".

But you pretty much know Lightning has this _thing_ with her sister, and you know that means she's only ever going to see you as the girl who broke her sister's heart (which is ridiculous considering you and Serah were still only _sometimes friends_ when she decided she was going to ruin your life forever).

And really, you can't help but blame Serah for all of this even though she really didn't do nothing for spite or meanness. Girl just thought you'd want to get it on with her even though her sister's right there, hot as can be. Not her fault, you know, but it's hard to make that connect with how you feel.

And it just ain't fair to you or anyone that things had to turn out like they did. All the progress you made with Lightning's been wiped away and now you're probably going to have to keep away from Serah so she can let her feelings settle. You just lost two Farrons at the same time, and it isn't fair.

You turn your head so you can breathe and let out a long sigh, downright melodramatic, but you can't find it in you to be disgusted with yourself just yet because everything's fresh and raw still.

You know you'll get back on track soon—you _don't_ stew—but until then you've decided: _no more Farrons_.

That's that then. No more Farrons until you stop feeling so damn burnt out from the whole thing. Until then, you gotta focus on you. So you stretch, hands grasping at open air over the edge of your desk, and then you push yourself up and shake the stiffness out of your shoulders and back, resolved to stop being so damn mopey about the whole thing.

The first few moments of your new no Farron policy start with seeing Lightning Farron walk through the front doors of the library.

It's the first time you've seen Lightning in plain clothes, and if it weren't for her hair you might not have recognized her. And for all that this should be raising red flags in your head, the only thing you can even think is, _oh no, she's hot._

By the time you stop looking her up and down and make eye contact, you get the sense to turn and look to your computer like you're doing actually doing something. You pray she's here for some book on Aristotle or whatever the hell she studies at school. You know she's not.

"Hello," she says, and there's impending doom in the innocence of her greeting. You start prepping for what she's got for you even if she looks just as calm as ever. She could have crazy murder on the brain, but you'd never know.

"Hey," you start, more than a little unsure. "Don't suppose your team's started practicing around here now, has it?" You try to sound more hopeful than you feel.

"No," she says, right to the point.

You try again. "Not here for a book either, huh?"

She shakes her head and says, "Let's talk." She nods toward the book shelves, and you know she's asking for privacy. "Sure," you sigh, and you find it hard to be thankful she's going to chew you out in private like you are. You really didn't want to do this with her, but it was too good to think you weren't going to get nothing from her.

You stand up because now all you want is to get this over with quick, and you lead her right back to the corner of the library. You settle against the wall, arms across your chest, and you're ready to block out whatever she's got to say before she even starts. "What's up?" you ask even though you both damn well know what's up.

She doesn't jump you like you expect, though. She's still just as calm as can be, and when she speaks, she not even accusing, "I heard you and Serah talked." She goes right to the point, though, and you sigh for it.

"Yeah." You say. "She wanted a date. Wasn't interested." When she doesn't say anything to that, you arch a brow. Nothing to that? You ask, "How'd she take it?" You hardly care, but you're just ready to hear all the things Lightning's got to say to you, and you know that'll help her to it.

Lightning looks at you hard for a moment and then says, "Pretty bad." You sigh again and imagine how bad pretty bad is. "As her sister, I'm really supposed to hate you for that."

Ugh, and there it is. You knew that was coming, maybe not so nicely wrapped like it was, but there was no way this wasn't ending with Lightning telling you that you're never going to bang ever.

But then she smiles.

"But," she says, and suddenly she is stepping closer to you, and you tense up, flinching away from her when she stops right in front of you. You've never seen her any more intimidating than she is with that smile, and your breath stutters. "But if you were to make up with her, I don't think I'd have that obligation anymore." She is right in your face now, and you are somewhere between terrified and confused.

You are backed against the wall with Lightning Farron's hands on your hip and your shoulder, and you aren't even sure what to do with yourself when she leans in and goes right for your ear, lips near brushing against it as she whispers, "Because I _really_ don't want to hate you."

And then you are nothing but flushed and hot, and suddenly you understand nothing about what's happening except that Lightning wants you like you want her, and as soon as you realize this, your first thought is to pull her toward you, bury your face in her neck, her hair. All you want to do is find out what breaks her calm, and figure out how to do it over and over and over and over again.

But Lightning doesn't give you the chance.

As soon as you let out that breath you've been holding and go for her hips with your hands, she steps away from you and turns to go. You are so stunned that you can only watch as she saunters away and calls after her, "So hurry up and make nice." She turns the corner, and you feel like you could crumple onto the floor.

You do a few seconds later.

You've got about five seconds to think about how you've lost all control of your life before you forget all about that and think of all the things that could have just happened. You could have kissed her. She could have fucked you.

The thought of her holding you up against the wall, her fingers pressing between your legs, and her lips right at your ear is more than you handle. The thought of the marks you'd have to leave to keep quiet is even more so.

You dig for your phone and dial for Serah, fumbling with the buttons for all that your fingers are shaking.

**o**

**o  
**

**o  
**

The air's gotten cold. Frost's at the corners of every window, and some mornings there's snow in small patches everywhere. Winter's upon you, no doubt about it, but despite the way the time flies, you and Lightning are still only _friends_.

That doesn't stop her from sliding against your thighs, the inside of hers rubbing against the outside of yours, or digging her fingers into your shoulders, nails against your bare skin. Doesn't stop you from getting friendly with her ass, one cheek in each hand, or getting even friendlier with her mouth, lips and tongue both, either.

Her dorm's big—she's got more space between her and two other girls than you did growing up and more than enough space on her bed for the both of you—and most importantly, it's empty. You got the place to yourself, and you plan to keep kissing her like it's all you've ever wanted to do to her, especially since she's kissing you like it's all she's ever wanted to do to you.

And if there's punishment for doing all this while Serah's none the wiser, well, you guess the best you can hope for is to plead insanity and hope they stay your sentence. After all, it wasn't your fault you fell in love with Serah's sister.

* * *

The joke is actually that this is a response to a prompt asking for a Stacy's Mom fic.

The other joke is this: as November is National Novel Writing Month and I've no delusions of being able to get out 50,000 words, I'll instead be focusing on getting some kind of story up every week. It may not be a novel, but I think I could use a break from trying to achieve perfection for a bit. Updates will happen on weekends most likely. No idea if this will work, but I'll try.


	9. Fangrai February

This is a public service announcement that FangRai February is totally a thing that's happening on tumblr right now.

A small group and myself have banded together to get the creative juices flowing and the Fang/Lightning shippers out of their holes throughout the month of February. This means we'll be posting/receiving prompts for works of all kinds as well as collecting all new Fang/Lightning fanwork in one place.

It's going to be seriously cool, so stop by and check it out.

(and don't forget to give us prompts! i know you've all got something you've been dying to see written/drawn/etc)

Check it out at fangrai (dash) february (period) tumblr (period) com


	10. Conditional Surrender

Lightning's home.

That's what they told you when you and Vanille got back from shopping. Vanille said you lit up four kinds of bright, but you barely had time to listen to her giggle and coo before thoughts of your head between Lightning's thighs had you turning and heading for the door. You told her you'd see her later and to tell Sazh you dropped in, and then you were skipping down the front steps and bolting for your car.

The GC keeps Lightning busy out in the field, and some days you're out as far as Taejin's Tower clearing the roads for traders and travellers alike. There's scarce time when the two of you are in town together, and when you are, you split your time between screwing each other into the night and sleeping through the day so you can do it all over again.

So it's not your fault when you get to thinking about the way Light took you hard on the couch, pressed her fingers between your legs and held the back of your head so she could kiss all the air right out you while you writhed beneath her. Just the thought warms you and has you flexing your fingers against the leather of the wheel, licking your lips and thinking of all the ways you've ever wanted to use your kitchen counters.

If your thighs are squeezing together by the time you're pulling up in the driveway, who could blame you? Just the sight of her velocycle parked there brings a smile to your face, and you let a quick, excited little breath and swing open the door, taking the steps to the front door in one bound.

"Honey, I'm home," you call into the house. The lights are on, but the only sound is of water running. You grin. She must have known you were coming. No sense in making her wait any longer, especially when the ache between your legs is becoming more and more of a bother.

So you head for the bathroom, shrugging off your jacket on the way there, and make your voice go low, "You been in there long, Sunshine?"

But when you go to turn the knob, you're met with resistance, and for a moment you're stopped with confusion. Then you laugh, quick and barely amused.

"Forgot something, did you?" you call.

There's no answer, and after a long moment you knock on the door. "Lightning, you gonna leave me out here all by my lonesome?" You're still smiling, but it's fading fast.

From within the bathroom, you can hear her begin to hum, softly at first but getting louder. You try the handle again, but when it still won't budge, you grunt and knock on the door again. "Hey Light!" You're sure you're louder than the water, but she doesn't stop her humming and won't give you an answer.  
It's half a second before you know what game she's playing, and you clench your teeth and go tight in the shoulders. "Oh, I get it," you say, more than just a little bothered. "Well, see what you get from me tonight then, sweetheart!"

You stomp away from the bathroom door and pass the kitchen. You give one long, longing look at the counters and then huff and run your fingers through your hair in disbelief that Lightning chose to play this game with you.

_It's been too damn long_, you think bitterly as you march on to the bedroom.

You fall back into the bed and fist your hands in your hair, groaning and hating the world. Down the hall, Lightning carries on like she's not a care in the world, and there's a part of you that hates her too—hates her enough to want to drag your nails down her thighs and kiss her with your teeth.

And ain't that just what you need—to run your fingers across her skin, along her curves, through her hair and map everything with teeth and tongue. Figures she'd be locked up and just out of reach.

You groan again and can't help the way your mind wanders.

She's in there, probably grinning to herself because she knows you're out here suffering, and she's naked and dripping and smelling like strawberries. You can see the smoothness of her skin like you were there with her, see the muscle and her firm arse like they're right in front of you.

You can't help but wonder if she's in there, back against the tile, fingers between her legs, the most perfect expression of need on her pretty features. Is she biting her thumb to keep from moaning, her face all scrunched up because she knows she's close and it's everything she can do to keep her legs from failing and her fingers working within her?

You lick your lips and let out a shallow puff of air. The seam of your jeans is tight against you, and your thoughts aren't doing nothing to help, so you go for the fly and shimmy out of them. It's almost too easy to imagine Lightning's pulling them off you, actually giving you the time of day.  
She'd spread your legs and lay her hands on the tops of your thighs. She'd press her fingers along your stomach, eyes so keen on you, so unabashed and so alive. She'd keep looking at you even as her tongue found your clit, her fingers curling inside you. You'd be done quick, and all the while she'd keep on with her eyes and her fingers and her mouth, and she'd keep you riding out your pleasure for long after it should have been done and gone.

Or she'd pull you from the bed, press your back against the wall and keep her lips right by your ear, telling you all the things she was going to do to you. Make you moan, make you beg. Make you never want anyone else. Then she'd press her mouth to your neck and stroke you hard and quick, driving you to the point where your legs can barely hold up and she's got to place a hand at your hip to keep you steady.

All you can think is of all the wonderful things Lightning could do to you with her eyes, her voice, her fingers and tongue. You're crossing your legs hard and biting your lip, and god_damn_ if she doesn't hurry up, you know you'll go crazy.

But just the thought of her sucking at your neck, her hand cupping your breast, her fingers curling deep inside you has you out of breath and pressing your own fingers against the fabric of your underwear.

It's only a bit of a relief because the Lightning in your head is moving faster, making you shudder and gasp and throw your head back with her name on your lips, and you can't hope to compete with that, but you pick up the pace anyway because you're damn well gonna try.

You roll your tongue, have to remember to breathe, but Lightning just keeps on, hovering over you and smiling down, eyes hooded, her fingers where yours are, urging you on.

She's pushing you hard, fingers right where you need them and mouth hot against yours, and you nearly forget she's not really here, that's it's your fingers making you jump and jerk and tremble instead of hers. You're gasping for air and all the while your head is twisting into the sheets for all the jolts of pleasure rocking your hips up and out. You're close, so close, and it's getting harder and harder to keep seeing her there, giving you what you need and taking everything you got, so you just focus on the press of your fingers and wait to crest.

But then the bed dips, and your eyes pop open to see the real thing sitting there, warm and wet and inviting with those smoky eyes and that damn smile and nothing to hide her curves but a towel. You lurch forward, out of breath and eternally thankful she's here, but when you start to talk, she slides in behind you, kisses your neck, and tells you, "Don't mind me."

"Light," she start to say, and it comes out strained and more than just a little needy.  
She doesn't pay you a bit of mind, re

aching around your waist, her towel and wet skin right against your back, and takes hold of your wrist and brings it back to your clit. You groan because you think you've finally got her, but she just presses against your fingers to press against you, and she leads you back into stroking quick, hurried circles against yourself.

You can't tell if you care because she's right there, her nails scratching against your hipbones, her thighs squeezing around yours, her voice right in your ear telling you come on, come on, come on _Fang,_ and everything is hot and shaky and bright, and you can't breathe because all the air's left you in one gasp of _oh!_

Spots explode behind your lids, and nothing's real except the nails scraping up your thighs and the shallow breaths in your ear and the way every bit of you tingles and hums, warm and happy.

"Couldn't wait ten minutes, could you?" Her voice is smugly pleased, but it's low with want.

You lean back into her, breathing as steady as you can for all your body buzzes and thrums in time with the beat of your heart. She's got her hands on your hips, and you grasp at her wrist. The back of your shirt is cool and wet. You turn, slowly, to look at her.

Her body is slick with water, and her towel has dragged down to the swell of her breasts. She pushes a strand of brown hair behind your ear, still smiling so perfectly. You lean forward to give her a quick kiss, nipping at her bottom lip.

"You're a real bitch, you know that Light?" you ask, and she just smiles and pulls you down by the shoulders over her.

* * *

One day I'll remember to update on this site. Until then, stories are posted to my tumblr just as soon as I'm done with them.


	11. The Tides Remember All Who Sink

As a kid, you loved the caged birds.

You'd stand down by the docks and peek over the tops of the vendors' tables and watch the birds flitter about within the bars of their cage. They were bright yellow, vibrant green, shiny blue, and impossibly red, and every single one of them sung until their voices died and they mysteriously disappeared. You always wondered why you never saw them again after they were gone, but not long after you took up watching the birds, you got taken on your first ship as a cabin boy.

You forgot about the birds then, filled your head with things like constellations and maps and swords and pistols and masts and running a crew instead, and not once did you ever think about their colors or songs or mysterious disappearances.

At least until you realized you'd been caged yourself.

Her name is Admiral Farron, but they call her Lightning on the seas and through every backwater port you've ever anchored in. She is the pirate slayer, quick and dangerous as the flashes of heaven in a storm, and she's caged you good.

Never was a two-master that you saw cut through the tides like hers—_Odin_, she calls it—and never was there an admiral with such steel in her marrow. She didn't read you the bounty on your head before she sunk _Bahamut_ and took you and your crew for captives of the state.

"Some cage," you say, whistling because there's no one to hear you but yourself.

For you, she didn't bother with the brig or the shackles. She treats you for your piracy with plush beds, generous rations, and time, and all you have to do is sing for her, whatever tune she wants. Sometimes it's nothing but idle chatter over hard tack and tea that she wants from you, a game of sorts that you haven't even begun to figure out, but other times she wants to see your colors: green and blue and red and yellow.

You long since abandoned the thought that it's flattery, that she's holding you specially because she knows the tales of your escapes, stealing skiffs and sailing away or daring jumps from the tops of masts. She's more a pirate than she thinks, is all. You told her so when she pressed her face into the crook of your neck: every pirate starts by taking what they want with no regard for the say of others.

And she's got no regard for the law or the state or the opinion of her crew. She hasn't docked in three weeks when the gallows were less than two away from where she took you. Her supplies are running low, and her patience has waned to show for it. She might take your clothes from you soon.

"Admiral!"

You look up in time to see her open the door to her quarters—yours too now—and wave a salute away from her crewman. It's standard issue, and she pushes the door closed behind her afterward.

You whistle again, this time because she _is _here to hear you.

Admiral Farron is _gorgeous_. It's one of the things you do like about her. She wears a thin sleeved shirt, too white to exist on the sea, and a gold stitched black overcoat. Her boots are a fine dark leather, and she wears a crimson sash around her waist. And as much as you admire the figure she cuts wearing her riches on her skin, you like her better without all the cotton and velvet.

"How are the currents?" you ask, sprawled across the furs of her bed.

She hangs her hat on a stand tacked to the floor and begins to slide out of her coat. "Fighting us," she says. "We'll stay anchored here until they settle."

You sit up, smiling at her, and say, "If I didn't know better I'd think you didn't want to get rid of me."

She hangs her coat up as well and bends to unlace her boots. "Don't worry. You'll have your day at the gallows soon enough," she assures you flatly, tossing the boots once they're off. She nearly sounds certain of that. You laugh.

She turns toward you doesn't even smile. Instead, she crosses the room and kneels on the edge of the bed, pulling you up into a swift kiss. She tastes like the sea. You like that about her too.

When she pulls away and looks down at you, eyes searching for something, you give her your best grin and ask, "How is my crew?"

"You'll see them all yourself before the get the noose," she says, and you just laugh.

"The captain always goes last, then?" you ask.

"Yes," she tells you, pulling at the string of your collar. Her eyes have stopped searching. Now she can only look as the fabric slides low around your shoulders. "You're the main attraction."

"For you? Or them?" You're too smug, maybe, but she hasn't tired of your song yet.

She brushes a hand over your collarbone. "What's it matter to a dead woman?"

She dips low and presses a kiss to your shoulder. You breathe softly and let her push you back into the plush pillows and furs. You don't tell her you don't plan on dying, for her or her state. Besides, she makes it clear she doesn't want to talk when she nips at the skin of your collarbone.

You, for all you don't mind such a pretty thing above you, aren't doing much more than running your fingers up her back, not even bothering to pull the shirt from her as you go. She rises from your shoulder to kiss you, and you barely give anything at all.

She breaks from the kiss and tells you, "You're making me angry."

You smile innocently. "Thinking about the gallows, love. Death's a prickly subject, you kno—" She kisses you again.

"Shut up and fuck me," she tells you.

You press your fingers to her hips and smirk. "As it please the lady," you reply.

"Admiral," she corrects, settling on your thigh.

"As it please the _admiral_," you repeat, raising your leg and pulling her down against you by the hips.

You haven't thought of the pretty songbirds on the vendors' tables for a long time, but now their chirping is all you hear even as you drag your captor down against your thigh, even as she leans forward and breathes heavy in your ear, even as you feel heat bloom between your legs.

She grits her teeth and bites her lip and rolls her hips against you, and for all that you shouldn't be able to think of anything else, you finally realize what happened to those birds that stopped singing, those birds that disappeared.

No one has any use for a bird that can't sing.

You lean up, kiss her hard with teeth, and slide your hand between her legs. She starts, breaking from the kiss and letting out a hard breath. You circle her clit with your fingers slowly, and she bites her lip again and shudders. Her arms are trembling where they're holding her up.

You won't stop singing, but you can't sit and wait for her to tire of you either. And if things keep up, she won't have time to lose interest. You wonder what will run out first: her supplies, her patience, or her caution.

Her right arm crumples, and she falls, her forehead pressed into the furs next to your head. You just press against her harder, faster and watch the way she jerks and sighs and tries not to call out.

She is a pretty thing, and you'll even be a little sad to see her go, but caged things don't last long, and you've got no plans to stop living. You know you'll get the chance if only you keep singing whatever tune she wishes of you, keep letting her think you a little bird who wants naught of the world outside your cage.

_That will be the easy part_, you think, watching her turn her head and grasp at the bed and rock like a ship at sea, so caught in her pleasure she's nearly lost herself. You press a kiss to the side of her head and smile against her hair. Who knows? You might even take her with you when you go.

Pirates take what they want with no concern for the rest, after all, and you've not quite wanted a little bird to sing for you so much as you do now.

* * *

Sometimes I forget I have an account on this site.


	12. Everything

_She meant the world to you, and when she was gone, the world meant nothing to you._

* * *

You're home for the first time in centuries, but you've never felt more lost.

You don't recognize a thing, and if you hadn't seen the windmill from Taejin's Tower, you'd think all these crystal dunes meant you'd be way off—Oerba's over off beyond some mountain, past some field of flowers. But you saw, you and Vanille both, and the two of you sat huddled near the rim of the tower, looking out over the place that used to be your home.

She shook, and you shook right along with her, and the two of you held each other, wrapped up in your sari under Cocoon. You pulled her into your lap and talked after that, talked about a time when l'cie was just a word and Cocoon was full of monsters. She didn't say much, just sat and listened to you, and you only stopped when she told you, her voice very small, that she was going to go to sleep if that was okay with you.

Your heart nearly broke.

So you cuddled up with her, far away from the fire and the others, and held her through the night. You don't remember falling asleep, but when you woke, she was hunched by the rim of the tower again, staring off over Oerba and covering a cough with her hands.

The air was bad, and it'd bring on a cough quicker than ice, or that was what you told her. She agreed, yeah, it was the air, and neither of you mentioned what seeing your home's rotting bones could do to you.

That's why when the time comes to split up the troops, you told Lightning that you and Vanille would take the rear. She was feeling a bit under the weather, you said, and you didn't pretend not to see the pity in her eyes. She must have seen you last night, else why would she let you go so easily? You tried not to look her in the eyes after that.

But once the lift lets the six of you off at the bottom of the tower, you don't have to try so hard anymore because she's up front with Hope and Snow, and the most you can see of her is her back.

"Well," Sazh says, looking out across the dunes and squinting because the sun's just high enough to catch on the crystal. "Nothing out here looks too appetizing, huh?"

Breakfast doesn't come easy when all there's to eat is cie'th and crystal, even if you and Vanille have been up and down these lands one hundred times over. You kick some dust and set your hands on your hips. "Everything's been chased off," you say, huffing. "Cie'th ain't too friendly, you know."

Vanille makes a little whine, and Sazh claps an arm over her shoulders. "Hang tight, little lady. We'll find us something," he tells her, smiling. She just nods her head and muffles another cough into her hands. "Gotta be something around here, right?" he asks, and there's a bit of concern in his eyes.

He's not talking to you, but you answer anyway, "Maybe."

You don't know a single thing that could live here now, and if something new is here, you don't know how to find it. But you're not thinking too much about finding food, not when Vanille is looking so goddamn frail under Sazh's arm.

You step to her, press your fingers to the side of her cheek and get her to look at you. "You alright, Vanille?" you ask, and she just smiles weakly and nods.

There's nothing reassuring about it, and your brow furrows.

Sazh looks at you and then Vanille again, and he gets this real acute look of worry now. It reminds you of the matron, how she'd look at you when you'd gotten beaten and bruised. You haven't thought of her in a long time, though, and you think now isn't the time to start. If you stop to think about the dead, you won't ever get back up.

"Let's get you off your feet," he says, shaking her shoulders a bit. "Brynhildr's always up for giving rides to pretty girls." He tries for a smile, but she doesn't do anything more than say she'd like to sit for a while. Just catch her breath.

You and Sazh trade looks, but he hands her off to you and lets you walk her towards the crest of a dune. He throws a Runiga into the air for the rest of them to come on back while you keep her close.

"Don't you worry, missy. We're gonna find something soon. Fix your brands right up, and then we'll head back for that bastard up in the nest. Never thought anyone could rub me worse than that prick Dysley, but then he went and changed, you know?" you tell her, holding her close around the shoulders. You know you're babbling, but it doesn't matter a bit to you.

"We'll be alright, kiddo-promise. Might not have turned out so good last time, but we've got back up this time, and we're gonna get through this, you hear me? You'll be okay." You smile down at her, hopeful.

She looks up, her face gray and terribly distressed, and presses a hand to her thigh. She gnaws on her lip, and there's moisture collecting at the corners of her eyes. It takes you by surprise, you look she's giving you, but when she speaks, _that _hits you harder.

"_Fang_," she says, voice wavering like she's choking on the words because she can't get them out quick enough. "Fang, I-"

She breaks off into another fit of coughing, _really_ coughing, and bends over, near retching from the way she's gasping for air. You only get half a second to put your other hand on her shoulder too, face pulled up in alarm, before her skin goes a bright white, and you're taken so by surprise that it nearly blinds you.

You call her name, blinking and reaching for her, but your vision is spots of white against gray, and you don't snatch a single glance before you're thrown, laid out on your back in the crystal. Something crunches under you, but you're rolling to your feet out of pure instinct before you can think to wonder what it is.

When you rise, your vision's blurring back into focus, and Sazh is screaming your name and then Vanille's name like the damned fal'cie just came down to scrap with you.

The sound you hear first. It's real distinct, even with Sazh yelling in the background. Metallic, like someone is screeching through an old microphone. It cracks and fluctuates, and you know it's cie'th before you even get your eyes on it.

The cie'th is big, blue-gray crystals jutting every which way from its shoulders and arms, and stares straight ahead with its one, bulbous red eye. It lumbers and careens, slipping in the crystal dust and catching itself with its too big arms and then staggering with its stick thin legs for balance. It's a monster, screeching and screaming and lunging forward like its the first time its really walked, and you whip out Kain's Lance just of habit, taking notice of the splinters in its pole. You must have landed on it too hard.

"Fang! Fang, no!" Sazh screams at you, scrambling up the crystal dune toward you, and you glance between him and the cie'th, not sure what he's getting at. "Don't! That's Vanille, Fang! That's _Vanille_!" he hollers, and your blood turns to ice all at once.

Your face twists in surprise, eyes wide and searching, and you can't find Vanille anywhere. She was just here, she was just here, but all you see is a cie'th careening toward you, it's massive arm pulled back to swing. It hits you across the side, and your arm lights up with pain as you go tumbling down the side of the dune. The crystal dust in the wounds don't hurt near as much as looking up and seeing your sister _like that_.

Sazh is at your side in an instant, but you've only got eyes for her.

"No," you say, not even bothering to find your feet again. "No, no, no, _no_." This wasn't supposed to happen. You were supposed to save her, protect her, keep her safe and sound and happy, and now she's... she's...

"Vanille!" Sazh screams. "You stay right up there, missy! We're gonna... We're gonna fix you! You just stay right there!"

She doesn't pay him a bit of mind, beginning down the dune after the two of you.

"Heal her," you say, looking at the old gunner so suddenly. "Sazh, heal her! Come on, quick!"

He looks down at you, so pitiful, and then back at her. He pulls his pistols like he's listening, but he can't seem to raise them to her to cast the spell. Instead, he presses a hand to his own brand, and grimaces so terribly that it shakes you down to you bones. You drop Kain's Lance, and feel everything drain from you.

She's too heavy in that new body. She was never so clumsy before. But now her legs are too little for the rest of her, and her shoulders rock back and forth as she walks. There isn't even a hint of a skip in her walk now.

One thought keeps running through you, over and over and over, screaming so loud that you can't hear nothing else, and it says: _she's gone cie'th, you let her go cie'th, she's gone, she's gone, she's _gone.

"No, no-don't shoot! That's Vanille," Sazh waves his arms over his head, looking back behind you, and you turn and see the rest of them come running only for Hope to freeze where he stands and Lightning and Snow to stutter to a slow. Hearing those words makes you sick right to your marrow.

"Vanille?" Snow asks, gaping and squinting at her, but Lightning's quick. She's always been quick.

"We need to slow her down," she says, and there's just a hint of a tremble in her voice, her eyes wide. She's always been a woman of action, and you hate her for it a little. "Snow, get Fang and Hope out of here. Sazh, help me daze her."

Snow heaves you to your feet, but he's slow because he's still looking up to Vanille with such heartbreak on his face, so he doesn't even feel you remember yourself when you see Sazh flick a ball of light from the end of his pistols at your sister, _your little sister_. She staggers a little, slowing, and you come alive and turn on Sazh with the kind of menace that lit your arm up centuries ago.

"Bastard!" you scream, and clock him clear across the face. "Don't you touch her, don't you fucking _touch her_!"

You go in for another hit while he's recoiling, but Lightning's still too quick, too quick. She catches you around your middle with one arm. You elbow her twice before she brings her other arm up around your neck, and then its all you can do to try to throw your head back into her.

"That's Vanille!" you cry, and your eyes water like you're actually crying. "That's Vanille you goddamned idiot! You have to heal her, fucking _heal her already_."

Lightning pulls back against you, pulls you away from your only sister, your only love, your only hope in all the goddamn world. She pulls you away and calls to Snow, "I've got Fang! Help Sazh!"

You see the Hero turn and face her, turn and throw his arms up against her blows. They bounce right off his skin, but he tells her to stop, stop Vanille stop, that he's there for her, that she's a hero too and heroes never die. He tells her they're going to save her, tells her not to worry one bit, just hold on a little longer. Don't worry, he tells her, don't you worry. They're definitely going to save her.

She keeps beating against him, and your throat goes tight and it's got nothing to do with how Lightning's holding you.

She takes you away, you and Hope both (he's crying and shuddering, but he keeps looking over his shoulder like he expects Vanille to be back to herself) and just takes you away.

You tell her no, tell her you have to help her, tell her you have to save her, tell her you're the only one who can, but she just tells you to listen, just listen, just breath and listen to her because she needs you to be with her on this one. She takes you down to your knees telling you that she's here, that she's going to help you both but she needs you to breathe, she needs you to _think_.

"No," you tell her, shaking your head, sobbing all the while. "I can't leave her. I _can't_."

She presses against your back, and you feel a shudder run through her, and she tells you, "We're not going to leave her."

Then Hope comes to you front, grasps your hands in his, and tells you that he's going to make things right, that he's going to get Vanille back, that he's going to do whatever it takes to save her all through tears and broken hiccups. It sounds like he's praying for it instead of reassuring you.

You look at him for a while before you can't no more because there's tears finally clouding your vision, and then you turn your head to the sky to curse the gods over and over. You and Hope break down together until your tears won't come no more and your voice is too hoarse to work.

And that's when Lightning finally releases you, easing you out of her grip like she's scared you'll either take off or just fall to pieces without her holding you together. You slump forward, but Hope's there, and he keeps you up. "It's okay Fang," he says, and he sounds more the kid than he ever has. "It's okay."

Lightning slides both her hands around you, and she holds you in an embrace with her face buried in your hair. The two of them keep you like that, telling you over and over that things will be okay until the sun is dropping low and two Ruingas explode against the orange-red sky.

Lightning disconnects first, slowly, and looks to the signal and then to you. She reaches around you, barely touching Hope's shoulder, and tells him she needs his help. His face is still red, but he pulls back, rubbing his swollen eyes with the palms of his hands and nodding at her. She stands, and he follows her lead. Then she bends, loops her arms under yours, and pulls you up as careful as she can.

Your legs feel less like jelly now, but you can barely see for all the red in your eyes. Lightning pulls one of your arms around her shoulders, and then takes hold of your waist. You feel Hope loop your other arm around his shoulders, but that barely helps, and you got to lean on Lightning.

The sun's nearly gone when you start towards the Ruingas, and you keep quiet and just try to use your head, but you can't string two thoughts together as you are because the only thing you can think is _Vanille, Vanille, Vanille_. So you just keep on putting one foot in front of the other until you don't need Lightning or Hope to walk anymore, and they're just wrapped around you because you still need that.

"Lightning," you say abruptly, "Do you think I'll get her back?_"_

She wants to answer right away, but hesitates and then tells you not to worry, that the lot of you have done the impossible before. Those weren't the words you were looking for. You deflate, falling on her strength again to help you walk.

When you find Snow and Sazh, Sazh takes Hope's place, and good thing because your legs go limp again at the sight of Vanille staggering through the dust and howling at Cocoon. Snow's lost his bandana and is propped on his toes, curved over a drop of sapphire. His face is all scrunched up like he don't know what he's looking at, and you hear the echo of his pleas in his silence. His voice is probably as hoarse as yours.

Hope is the first to speak, and his hands squeeze against leather when he asks "What do we do now?" All he gets for an answer is the howls of your little sister.

Oerba don't knock you hard like you thought it would. It's broken and decayed, but it's nothing you haven't seen before. It doesn't weigh on you, not a bit, because you don't feel anything but the moon on your skin and the chill in the air and the metal grate you're sitting on biting into your thighs.

You've got your head back now, but you can't feel but a trickle of heartbreak, and you think maybe your lance's not the only thing broken because you've got to be busted if you can't feel anything.

Hope's still crying, and you should be too. You should be needing Snow and Lightning sitting there talking you back up because you can't do nothing but cry and cry and cry, but you aren't in there with them. You're sitting out on the stairwell, gazing at your lance with a blank expression because you just can't feel a single thing.

You got one knee by your shoulders and the other bent in front of you with your lance lying across your thigh. You're fingering the material, tracing the cracks and mapping the damage. You think it's broken for good, that the next fight will see it turned into pieces, but Lightning thinks you just got to fix it up a bit, splint it maybe until you can find something to fix it for good. You dig your nails into the cracks, feel them widen a bit, and look out to Vanille and think you'd do anything if only she could be fixed.

You watch her settled against the old windmill, all jutting crystals and hulking limbs, and you think for a minute that maybe you could fix her, but even as you think it you know that there's no fixing that. There's no fixing it, and you told her all along but she never listened, not once.

And now she'll never hear you again, all because she was too caught up in the fantasy the rest of them were spouting to see the truth of things. You think maybe she was too caught up in her own fantasy too.

But she didn't hear you then, and you know even if you called her name until your throat bled she wouldn't hear you now. Nothing you can do can get to her because she ain't in there now, but that doesn't stop her name from coming out your lips like a prayer.

You say her name over and over, trembling each time, until you hear boots slapping rusted metal behind you, and then you're nothing but silence.

"You look tired," Sazh says, sitting down a ways from you and dangling his legs over the metal balcony. You spare him a glance, and he doesn't have his guns, and there's a deep purple bruise by his temple and on his brow.

"How's the kid?" you ask, and you can feel him eyeing you.

He rubs the knees of his pants with his hands and says, "More like the boy I met in the Vestige than the one that made it to hell with a smile." He gives you a little grin, one that's more forced than ought to be possible.

You don't rise to his bait because you got no cares left for Pulse, not when your sister's dead and gone. He clears his throat, asks what about you, and you tell him you're good enough.

He sits quiet for a minute, thinking, and then says, "You're still not alone, you know."

You tell him you know, but you're busted and what you know isn't the same as what you feel, but he doesn't need to know that.

"Besides," he says, "We'll have her back before you know it."

Your face twists up, and you tell him, "I'm no mess like I was before. I know she's not coming back." He looks at you all surprised, and you look right back at him. "No coming back," you say, "Don't got to try to tell me otherwise."

He tries to smile and says, "Hey now, you're giving up on her when there's still a chance."

You ignore his words because they're just more of that fantasy, more of the stuff that turned Vanille, and you tell him, "You got real lucky with Dajh, sorry about that by the way, but getting out a crystal's one thing. Once you go cie'th the best chance you got is death."

And now he's looking at you with wide eyes and tense muscles, and you know what you're suggesting, but you just sit there still as can be while he eyes you like he might call for the rest of them or jump you for Kain's Lance. He's got his legs pulled up now like he's about to go for your spear, and he's speaking quick, saying, "Fang, you're not thinking about killing her. Tell me you're not. _She's still got a chance_, so don't you do anything crazy."

You pick up your lance, set it down beside you, and throw your feet over the ledge. Sazh has taken hold of your wrist, and you don't stop him.

"She ain't got a chance. I know the stories, and no one's ever turned back," you tell him so calm that he grips you tighter. There's no fairytales on Pulse about monsters becoming people, and you're not so stupid in the head to even hope for that now.

"Never pegged Lightning for a liar, though. Didn't seem the type," you say, and you're still letting him hold you fast. "She's just got her head wrapped up in miracles like the hero. You all do," you say, and you think maybe later you'll regret the edge to your words but you don't care for that now.

"But I know what's what," you tell him, turning over your shoulder to look at his face. He's looking older by the second. "So don't try to feed me that shit," you say, vicious, and he's holding you so tight it's starting to hurt.

You see his lips move and purse and then open, but he's not saying anything because maybe he's got no fatherly words for you this time. You think, _good_ because you didn't want to hear him talk anyway, and it's just as well if he figures out all these words are wasted breath, and they don't got enough of those left to be throwing them away.

You've got a kind of scorn in you now you didn't know existed until he started trying to make you think Vanille's coming back. You always liked the old man before, but now your blood's so close to a boil you can barely stand to keep your face. But you don't try to rein it in because when you're like this all you see is red, and there's no pinks or oranges anywhere.

But he's not angry, even after you tripped over an apology for his son, and the most he's done is try to keep you grounded with that hand of his. You yank your arm from his grasp because you don't need that either. He's breathing hard and looking at you with such pity, and you tell him to sod off, but instead he starts to wheeze. It comes out with a rhythm, and you realize he's singing you something because that's all he can think to do.

"You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast."

Its takes you by surprise, and you tell him, "Oh, shut it," but he just keeps on, and you have to grit your teeth and look away because he's looking so so stupid and so goddamned pitiful.

He sings, slow and careful, and at every refrain you've got to look away from him just to keep the scorn alive. He hums when the music in his head kicks in, and you think the melody's broken and fractured, but he keeps on, and you feel your gut start to twist, and suddenly you're not so clogged you can't feel nothing anymore.

It's on you like a flood before he hits the last note, and you feel the bile in your throat and the trembles in your chest like a wave you've already ridden coming back around.

You got his voice leading you through it this time around, but the tears still come out, pitiful as the last time. You fold over, spine so bent you might have broke it, and listen as he waltzes you through everything, and when the final verse is sung, and he ends it with, "and it's all over now, baby blue," you keep falling to pieces.

You're choking out apologies, telling him you never meant for anything to happen like it did. You're sorry for Dajh and everything you've done, and somewhere in there you're wailing that you can't give Vanille what she needs, and he's not singing now, but he's telling you that he forgives you, that he never blamed you, that you and Vanille both got to meet Dajh officially, that it's no good to give up now, that you got to make Vanille come back, that you can't give up. He sounds just like the rest of them, but you can't help it, and you think maybe for just a minute you can make believe Vanille's not gone forever like you know she is.

He's got his hand on your shoulder now, and he don't stop talking, telling you all the things you want to hear, and for the moment that's all you need. But you know this feeling's going to run out just like his song, and when it's gone, all that's gonna be left is the fact that nothing's changed: your sister is gone forever and you can't even end her suffering.

The windmill groans under you.

If you and Vanille hadn't been up and down it twice a day as kids, you might worry it's trying to give out on you. But this has been your hideout since Vanille was old enough to climb, and you aren't too worried for it. But sitting up here, you don't feel so cheery like you used to, and looking up at Cocoon and imagining it dropping just gives you pains now.

Used to be the most fun in all of Pulse, lying back with Vanille and picturing all the ways it could come crashing down. Vanille wasn't much for it, but you'd sit and wonder for hours with nothing but the sound of the windmill's rotating to lull you through your thoughts. Now you look up at Cocoon all twisted up inside.

You don't have the stomach to try dropping it a second time, but you can't help hearing it hiss and spit at you like the viper you've been told it is. Even if you had the strength to do something to it, you don't think you could figure whether to save or let it rot.

There's people up there you know, and you made the mistake of getting friendly with them, and the destruction you caused before is eating away at you already. And you know for a fact Vanille didn't want it gone, but you can't help but feel it deserves to fall because you're all that's left of Pulse, and it's the cause for it. But you know you're five hundred years too late to be fighting Cocoon for Pulse, so all you've got left is connections you didn't want and guilt you can't shake.

You turn from it for a second when you hear someone hollering at you ground side, and you roll over to the edge and peek your head over it. Lightning's standing below you, looking up with words ripe on her lips, but before she can start speaking, you pull your head back and set your eyes back on Cocoon. You're not ready to let this train go because princess down there's got something to say. You've still got to make yourself right for not having the power to bring down the viper's nest when everything in your chest is telling you Vanille would have never turned cie'th without it.

But before you can finish convincing yourself it's better set to be saved then torn down, you feel the metal beneath you shake, and you know she's coming up to say what she's gonna say whether you're willing or not.

She pulls herself over the side of the turbine's platform and looks at you laid out with your lance across your stomach. Then she settles near you, her back on the turbine and her thigh right by your head. She doesn't wait for something she know's not coming, just starts talking and says they haven't found anything yet. What they thought they'd find, what you thought you'd find, you're not sure, but it doesn't surprise you in the least that nothing's turned up.

When you don't pick up the other side of the conversation, she looks at you from the corner of her eye and locks onto your lance. She reaches over and picks it up when you don't fight her, inspecting the damage with a careful eye. "If you keep neglecting it like this," Lightning says, "it won't last."

She's right—the cracks have spread all up and down its length. You tell her you don't think you can do anything for it, and when she tells you to give it to her for the night, you say,"Nothing you can do for it either." She stiffens at that, but gives it back to you anyway.

"I could help you if you'd let me, Fang," she tells you, but you don't say anything to that. You know she wants you to by the way she gives pause, but you won't give her a thing.

Finally she relents, but what she says doesn't give you the peace you want: "She's backtracking."

You suck in some air, and tell her, "Yeah, she is." You've seen her stumbling against her debuffs back towards Taejin's Tower.

You know Lightning's eyeing you now, waiting to see how you'll react, but you still don't give her a thing. You're not even looking at her.

She licks her lips and asks, "So Pulse can't help us?"

You've been through this with Sazh before, and you can already see this ending with you wrapped in her arms, burying your sorrow in her neck. You won't let her take you down that road again, so you just say, "What do you think?"

She takes a measured breath, and you know she's getting to the meat of things because niceness didn't work. You should have let her take your lance instead. "If Pulse doesn't have the answers, maybe Barthandelus will,"she says, and there's a drop in her tone that's made your mouth go dry.

"Maybe," you say, and you've got a fear in you better suited for someone who's not already lost everything.

You know what's coming next, even as Lightning keeps her mouth shut to give you a minute to think. You're surprised you've made it so long without the lot of them beating this into your head. They can't stay in Oerba, not forever, not with their brands ticking down like clocks until the moment they join Vanille as cie'th. They've got to push forward or everything they've worked for will be wasted.

She tells you so after a few seconds to get her words straight. She says they can't be long behind Vanille. She's worried about everyone, about Hope and Sazh and Snow and you and Serah, Serah, Serah. "We have to keep moving," she tells you, "Or we won't have anything left." You want to tell her you don't have anything left already, but you know what she'd say to that.

Lightning's come a long way since Palumpolum, more than the rest of you for sure. You told her there that all she had to do was survive, that she was doing it for her sister, that she couldn't just give up because then what would happen to Serah. Since, you've seen her do more than survive. She's gone from a force of nature to a guiding light, but she still manages to be both when the time calls for it. She's both Lightning and Light, and all she wants to do is save you like you saved her.

She's done it before, back in the Ark, but Vanille was with you then. You still had something worth fighting on for. Now she could give you all the speeches she wants, and you still wouldn't rise for her words.

She's talking still, but you start not to hear her. Her words are flowing into one ear and out the other. "So come with us, Fang. Fight for your sister. That's still your plan, isn't it? If you give up on her here, this is how it'll end," and so on and so on, and you think she must be giving one hell of a speech because she's turned to you, and she's looking so sincere.

You let her finish though, let her realize she's gotten away from herself, and then you take a deep breath, clutch your lance so tight you feel it splinter deep enough so you know it's ruined, and then tell her, "Lightning, I'm done."

You've got nothing left to fight for. Vanille's gone, and you're too late to even think about saving Pulse. You got the deaths of millions on your hands and the hate of millions more searing what's left of your soul, and you're. Just. _Done_. You've burned all you got, and now you've got nothing but ashes, and it's time you own up to that.

Her jaw tightens, and her lips get real thin because she's pressing them so hard. You see her shake her head, and Etro, she really is getting emotional about all this. The corners of her mouth drag down, and she gets out, "Fang, no, I know," but then she stops, chokes a little, and regroups. "Let me help you," she says, and you can tell she's trying to keep calm, but your disinterest is making her falter even more.

She's desperate, you can see that, and after you don't say anything back to her, she gives you her hand. "Lean on me," she near begs, but you're too far gone to hear anything more than garbage, and you don't so much as touch her offering.

So you sigh, long, unhurried, and then say, "You're a better hero than Cocoon deserves, Lightning." She looks downright heartbroken now. "But I'm not looking to be saved." Why would you?

She sits with you for a long time before she finally speaks again, pulling her legs up on the platform and under her, knees touching your hair. She calls your name and cups the back of your head in her hands and makes you look up at her. She's looking down at you, and her eyes are a misty blue. "We'll come back for you," she says "_and_ Vanille." Her voice isn't trembling like it should be. "So wait for us." she tells you, and then she sets you back down, and slowly disappears over the side of the platform.

You still feel her climbing down when you look over the edge, but it's too dark to see her even when she's so close, and you turn your gaze skyward instead. You feel like running after her, you feel like crying, but you can't do either because all of you is shaking right along with the windmill and every bit of you wants for her to be telling the truth, but every bit of you knows she's not.

You watch them leave the next day, headed to the old bridge in search of fal'cie knows what, but you head the other direction, chasing Vanille and clearing her path best you can. She turns on you once or twice, but you can Daze her better now and she doesn't touch you.

You think, _this is it, _because you know what this means. They're leaving you, and now all you have in the world is a cie'th who's supposed to be your sister. You'll be chasing her the rest of your days, and you'll die chasing her.

The rest of them, they'll go to make their miracle, and if they do, they'll come back for you to make another. Snow told you to keep her safe until they got back, but you don't expect them to.

That's why you don't turn when you hear the fight begin. There are shouts and explosions, but to you they're already dead. Really, they were dead the moment they decided they weren't going to wreck Cocoon.

You can only chase one ghost.

When Cocoon drops from the sky, tears come before you feel it hit.

Pulse itself shudders with delight, and all of the creatures turn their heads skyward and let out a howl of victory, erasing the sounds of your dismay. Pulse has won, the Fal'cie have won, and you, you've lost whatever's left when everything's already gone.

You've stopped cursing the gods because the gods are dead just like the rest of this barren, wasted universe, and they took all your strength and all your everything with them.

Lightning never does come back for you.

In her stead, he comes for you, comes to grant you one last mercy. Bahamut appears in a burst of fiery magic that leaves your arm numb and useless.

His eyes flash red, and his claws are long and sharp as ever.

He turns on what's left of Vanille first, rending her into pieces with a single slash, and while you're rushing at the remains of her, he spins and knocks you across the ground. It takes all of the air out of you, and you don't get a chance to turn over or try to fight back.

One second you're looking up at the sky, bare without Cocoon, and the next, his claws come down on you, ripping four holes through you, his thumb only barely missing your head. You choke on your own blood when he pulls them out, and pain floods through you. The ground turns red with blood, and you reach to touch at the wounds and find fleshy holes gushing blood and lymph.

You always were a rubbish medic. This is probably fatal.

You crane your neck, just wanting to get one more look at Vanille, just one more look at your sister.

Bahamut's claw comes down on you again, and this time he does not miss.

* * *

I forgot I had an account here again and didn't upload this thing until months later whoops. Enjoy your tears.


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